


The Shining Beacon (Year 1)

by CocksAndClocks



Series: The Shining Beacon [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: In which Qrow spends many years at Beacon and learns how to socialize almost, M/M, Most of this will be rated Teen but that will change in later chapters, Multi, OCs included as needed, Other characters are present but generally not involved enough to tag, OzQrow/Cloqwork is endgame, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, While Ozpin makes his assistant question her sanity and threaten to quit, and the two become unlikely friends, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-05 09:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12187554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocksAndClocks/pseuds/CocksAndClocks
Summary: Qrow begins his first year at Beacon Academy with his aloof sister and an unlikely team. Apprehensive of his violent, unorthodox background, Qrow quickly finds that the headmaster of Beacon provides structure, guidance, and his own flavor of eccentricity. Over his years at Beacon, Qrow will navigate the horrors of academics, training, and *socializing* - all while earning the dubious honor of becoming Ozpin's new pet (project).





	1. Adapt or Die

September.

The leaves of trees blushed with the promised arrival of autumn, and new beginnings.

The start of the school year marked the day Beacon Academy became a busy hive, buzzing with the thrill, energy, and anxiety of new enrollments. 

"First day! I am so excited! Beacon Academy! This is going to be great," a passing girl exclaimed. Dozens of enthusiastic students swarmed about their fellow first year as Qrow Branwen approached the giant towers of the academy. His nomadic life outside of civilization had made the combat test a breeze; however, the entrance exam which involved actual studying (something he’d never done before) was more of a challenge.

The boy hadn’t known what to expect from Beacon Academy. When he stepped off the airship, he remained on the threshold of the ramp while eager students rushed past him. Before him stretched a great cobblestone walkway, able to accommodate the dozens of students that poured over it, wrapping around an enormous fountain courtyard. 

_Not bad,_ he thought, running unimpressed eyes over the tops of the trees, toward the clock tower that rose above distant buildings. The clock chimed the hour with a resonance that seemed to strike within him. 

If Qrow believed in stupid things like fate, the moment might have meant something.

Instead, the student glanced at the pointed tip of the tower, wishing he could hide atop the structure instead of being suffocated among the masses. 

Beside him, the dark figure of his twin sister emerged, pausing.

He met Raven’s red eyes steadily. She kept the stare for a brief moment, then stepped off the ramp without a word.

Qrow knew what to expect from her, at least. After all, blood and family weren’t the same thing.

With a heavy sigh, he shuffled one tardy foot in front of the other to venture to the amphitheater.

"Watch it!"

The sudden collision with a sprinting odorous moron wasn't in the plans, but it occurred nevertheless. The slighter student picked himself up off the ground with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

"You're excused,” Qrow growled. Had this been an incident at the tribe, Qrow would have beaten the man into unconsciousness. 

He was told he couldn’t do that here.

 _"You’re_ the one that needs to watch it!" the offender threatened, thrusting his chest aggressively towards Qrow - the oaf must have been attempting to intimidate him.

 _A fight already?_ Qrow squared his shoulders. _Perfect._

"Actually..." the annoyance only grew in the youth as he spoke. Unwilling to concede, Qrow too stepped forward and met the taller boy's gaze. "You ran into me. If your perception is that bad, you don't belong here. I don't know how you passed combat school."

A girl stepped between them. Qrow sized her up – small, pale. She wasn’t like Raven; no armor, no critical glare, her dark blue hair smooth down her back. Foreign. 

Her slender figure meant nothing; Qrow knew how to use his own lean body to take down bigger threats, and this was a combat school.

Her tone, gentle, lacked everything Qrow knew about women in his tribe.

"He’s right,” she told Qrow’s contender. “It’s the first day of school anyway. You don't want to get into trouble on the first day. Come on..."

Obviously she knew the dolt because she felt comfortable enough to place a small hand on his chest and guide him away. Mercy was not normally in the Qrow’s playbook, but he would concede this once. For the girl's sake. She didn't need to get pummeled because of some moron anyway.

The girl sighed once the aggressor was out of sight. She giggled nervously and curled some of that rich blue hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry about that... he can be a bit... overbearing sometimes. I’m Sapphire." The girl extended her hand to the first year.

Although he found himself much less agitated, he could only bring himself to stare at her hand unsure what to do with it. He was fairly certain she wasn’t trying to check for weapons on him (as was the customary handshake with outlaws). 

And still she waited. 

After too many seconds passing, he gripped her arm at the elbow and checked her for the weapons. 

Sapphire giggled, wiggling at the invasion.

"Qrow,” he said shortly, his eyes reaching hers once more - a blue like a deep lake cleared after a heavy storm. He liked the color. Her name fit her.

Sapphire withdrew her hand after the awkward search. "Well, Qrow, it was nice to meet you. I hope we have a class together."

_...Why?_

The boy could only muse. 

She wasn’t like Raven at all, or any of the other girls raised with him. 

_What a weird thing to say._

Uncertain of what else to do, Qrow watched the girl fidget for a moment.

"Well, goodbye for now then. Good luck in the opening ceremonies." And with that, she was gone. 

Qrow watched her catch up with her friends, eyes narrowing.

He was late to opening announcements. It didn’t matter; he was a better huntsman that any of these kids, raised in stationary houses with pampered childhoods. Real conflict would be as foreign to them as this was to Qrow, the difference between sitting at a desk reading about Grimm and being raised in the wild with them.

Edging around the room, Qrow surveyed the scene until he spotted Raven again. 

She surveyed his lost expression and wordlessly asked _What happened?_ The boy glared to signify his displeasure at having a fight ripped from his clutches. Everything about this school pissed him off – the pretended civilization, the distance from his tribe, the fake superiority of kids with comfortable family lives.

Except –

The girl hadn’t been so bad. 

Raven smirked, reading his thoughts.

 _Terrible,_ she said without words. _Always terrible with people._

Like that was fair. They never let Qrow do anything. He wasn’t worth the _risk._ Raven’s protection was the only reason they hadn’t left him behind, or had him killed.

They would have been justified in doing either.

It didn’t stop her from being an insufferable bitch about her experience in real society.

 _Rub it in why don’t you?_ Qrow rolled his eyes, turning away as though it didn’t bother him.

He still felt the weight of her stare.

Qrow occupied himself with studying the amphitheater, disappearing from within the masses for a post to survey the crowd. 

To better educate himself, he thought. He didn’t need to know who was on stage, the deep, soothing voice a comfortable background noise; he needed to know who he was going to have to beat on the field, and how he was going to survive interacting with his classmates once he toppled their leader.

There were so many students. Students like the asshole who threatened him. Students like the blue-haired girl who was kind to him.

Qrow leaned against the back wall, the shadows accepting him readily.

How was he supposed to survive society?

***

Without warning, the students began to move, a single entity, leaving Qrow behind. He pushed himself off the wall, following them with a practiced gait, neither slow nor hurried. 

He wouldn’t let them see that he cared.

In the locker room, students readied themselves for the initiation. 

Qrow watched from a distance, grateful for the weight of the sword on his back. Rumors surrounded him, stories of life or death battles, friends of friends claiming to know of incidents where students were killed or maimed, voices tampered quiet by fear. Qrow wasn’t worried about fighting, or death. That came with the territory. His classmates were idiots if they didn’t expect that.

The only thing the students seemed to agree on was that this initiation would choose their teams.

Qrow was less than enthusiastic about that. He had always fought alone.

It was easier that way.

Eyeing the potential competition the boy heaved a heavy sigh. No one looked capable of keeping up with him except Raven. But she had long since decided in order to blend in and fool the masses, she would not purposefully seek Qrow out. 

Always left behind.

Qrow craned his neck, listening to the crack of joints made stiff by travel, spying his sister approach him.

No, not Qrow.

Raven sauntered over and made contact with a blond boy. "Name's Raven." 

She demonstrated the less invasive intention of the hand gesture Qrow experienced earlier. 

_Bitch could have told me how to do that,_ his thoughts hissed. He started to clench his hands into fists, catching the action and choosing to crack his knuckles instead. She wouldn’t get to him. Not this time.

The blond looked surprised by Raven’s introduction. Broad-shouldered, a pathetic hint of facial hair sprouting on his chain. He’d be popular with girls if he could muster an expression that didn’t say _I’m a dumb jock._

"Taiyang,” he said. “It’s nice we’re all going through initiation together. Lets us all meet new people and learn to work together. I think it’ll help a lot of people grow..." 

He was rambling. Nervous. Not holding it together. Qrow wondered if that was because of the initiation or a girl talking to him. 

Qrow snorted.

_Pathetic._

Raven's eyes darted to her brother, the smugness almost audible.

The blond's eyes followed Raven's intense stare to land on Qrow.

_What does meeting new people have to do with being a Huntsman?_

Qrow ignored the boy, offering Raven exasperated glance. 

_I don’t care. I don’t care._

She held his gaze for a moment before pointedly looking away. The message was obvious.

_Stop sulking. Blend in._

Qrow ran through every curse he knew. 

_Fine._

He turned around completely, free of Raven’s judgment. If Raven wanted him to blend in without giving him a hint of how to do it, then it was her fucking fault if he failed. His eyes fell on a girl and he approached her without another thought. A slim little thing, dark hair splashed with red, her figure hidden by a cloak of stark white. He tapped her shoulder and broke into an introduction without preamble.

"Hey... My name is -"

The girl turned "Oh! Hello!" 

Qrow paused, disarmed by the enthusiasm. Her smile was ready, easily elicited. Even her eyes seemed to smile at him, wide and silver.

The smile faltered as the silence between them grew. "I’m Summer. Summer Rose. And you are...?"

Qrow cleared his throat nervously. Her eyes perplexed him. "Qrow."

The girl giggled, her smile returning. She smiled like it took no effort, no thought. "Nice to meet you, Qrow."

"Why?"

The question left his lips without thinking. He wanted to leave the confinement of the locker room, away from all these strangers who judged him without knowing him. Summer’s smile confused him. 

"Because we could become friends, silly!" The girl giggled once more and playfully swatted his shoulder. 

Qrow's eyes narrowed at the touch, suppressing the desire to flinch or pull away or strike her back. Suspicion filled him, ate at him from the inside. 

_She’s mocking you._

Qrow clenched his fingers into tight fists, digging nails into palms to hold himself back from everything he knew.

_Blend in. Blend in._

There was only one thing to say that wasn’t an attack.

"See you in the initiation." 

_Maybe._

It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter and the girl with blue hair didn’t matter. 

With that he turned on heel, meeting Raven’s eyes instantly, her slow blink calling him out on the silent lies.

One day at Beacon Academy and Qrow was already out of his depth. This was nothing but confusion. People, society, socializing. Especially girls. Raven used her looks as a strategy – the ability to look pretty and unassuming a lethal tactic. Sometimes Qrow thought that was a cheat, an easy ploy that could make up for lackluster fighting skills. 

Then again, life wasn’t fair so it was better to fuck than be fucked.

A student clearing her throat too loudly to his left caught Qrow's attention. His eyes darted over, assuming a wide stance if the brunette midget from before wanted past. Instead –

The girl with blue hair. Sapphire.

"She was trying to be your friend you know. She won't hurt you." Sapphire smiled up at him, like she found his awkwardness charming. "Relax a little. We’re all in a new environment. We need to work together so we can all get through this."

So she had _some_ sense, Qrow mused.

He attempted to return the smile, lips protesting unfamiliar movement. 

The girl’s own smile faltered, and Qrow knew what he looked like.

Awkward, stiff, and insincere.

"Right," Qrow sighed.

The girl straightened and gave a quick wave farewell, "I should go get ready. See you on the field!"

Maybe the easy smiles were just a front. Other students were just as nervous. Who was Sapphire trying to fool? Qrow? Herself?

Qrow tore his eyes away from her retreating form and found the locker room empty. He drew a long breath from his nose, frustration rising. 

He took a moment to relieve stress on a locker. It looked better dented anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy. The locker didn’t do anything to you.” 

Qrow glared at the voice.

The blond boy. The one Raven found interesting enough to talk to. He took a careful step back at Qrow’s expression, raising his hands as in surrender. Only after Qrow let his shoulder slump did the boy offer a grin.

“Taiyang,” he said extending a hand to Qrow as he had done earlier to Raven. “You’re not from around here are you?”

Qrow shook his head taking the boy’s hand - too harshly - for a solid shake.

“Ouch! Easy there,” Taiyang looked Qrow over. 

Analyzing his stance. 

Qrow didn’t like it. In his experience, sizing someone up was either a show for dominance or a straight up brawl. 

“Are you from Vale?” Taiyang asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wouldn’t have guessed from what you’re wearing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Qrow’s eyes narrowed.

He wanted a reason to punch Taiyang.

“Nothing. You just don’t look like you’re around here. We have this thing called fashion and all the girls love it.”

 _“Girls love it,”_ Qrow repeated dryly.

“Yep. Newest thing: kilts. All the rage.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Really? I’ve got one if you want. The ladies won’t keep their eyes off you.”

Qrow’s eyes caught the movement of dark hair. Raven was back, loitering in the front of the locker room, waiting. He met her gaze but now she said nothing with her eyes, her smile ambiguous.

The boy smirked himself, ready for the action. “Alright, sure.”

Qrow still wanted to punch the blond, but maybe he’d be useful first. After all, Raven didn’t take to people this quickly. 

Then again, Qrow wasn’t ever sure he trusted her either.

***

Professor Ferra Agrios, personal and professional assistant to the illustrious Headmaster of Beacon Academy, trudged up the great hill outside the campus proper just before eight thirty in the morning, her inner thoughts nothing more than a series of incoherent swearing.

She pushed her wild gold hair from her eyes when the wind howled past her, biting through her shawl. She cursed the wind and the increasingly cold autumn weather that heralded the new academic year; she cursed the early hour and the strange location in which she found herself; and as she approached the top of the hill, spying the black suit among the trees, she especially cursed her boss.

"Good morning, Ferra," Professor Ozpin said, without turning from the edge of the cliff, watching the sunlight over the trees. He scarcely raised his voice above the shrill wind, raising his ever-present coffee mug to his lips.

"Good morning, sir," she replied, her voice involuntarily bitter. 

Ozpin's brown eyes flickered over his glasses at her tone, his lips twitching. "The usual enthusiasm regarding a new year?"

"More so than usual," she muttered, craning her neck to look over the expanse of the hill, seeing nothing out of place - except the almost unremarkable stone tiles that lay in a long row, stamped with the Beacon crest. 

Over twenty years at Beacon - sixteen as Professor Ozpin's assistant - and she had never seen him do something like this.

Well - that wasn't _entirely_ true. 

Ozpin's first-year initiations had always been _creative:_ blindfolding armed students in the presence of Grimm to test their aura sensitivity; the incident with the hedge maze seven years ago, in which a student went missing for three days; the time he filled the cafeteria with whipped cream and tossed the students in to create teams. 

She still couldn’t stand the sight of whipped cream.

This year would be different. Ferra had been told over the summer to erect a series of spring-like traps on the top of the great hill that overlooked the forest. She had looked at the blueprints in his office in horrified amazement.

"You can't do this, sir," she had said when he first proposed the idea.

"Can't I?" Professor Ozpin had asked, as though her objection surprised him.

She pleaded, lectured, argued with the man - she often shocked others with the way she spoke to him - but Ozpin was a whimsical, stubborn old man, and he steadfastly assured Ferra that this was _a good idea._

"Fine," she had said. "I'll do it. But if I do, you must make me a deal."

"A deal?" Ozpin repeated, eyes laughing.

"No more initiation stunts. No more making my hair turn gray every summer when you give me cryptic orders for how you've decided to torture the first-years. This is the only test you can give them every year."

Ozpin had considered this agreement as he sipped his coffee, Ferra steeling herself for the inevitable rejection, as was the headmaster's whim.

"Very well," he had said.

Ferra had nearly fallen out of her chair in disbelief. 

_Now,_ however...

This year may be different, but Professor Agrios could not determine whether that was a good or awful thing. She had done as ordered, having the academy engineers build the devices on the hill. Eyeing them on the cold morning of the first-year initiation, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake in her offer to Ozpin. It was entirely too probable that the old man had agreed to her terms because he remained with the upper hand.

She tested one of the stone tiles with her foot, feeling nothing but the sturdiness of the rock. But she knew the power of the hydraulics that lurked beneath each tile.

_Those poor students._

"Correct me if I'm wrong," she said, withdrawing from the tiles and returning to Ozpin's side, "but it appears that you're going to have the students line up on those tiles and fling them into the forest."

"Astute observation," Ozpin said, sipping his coffee.

_"Sir."_

"Objecting now?" the headmaster said. "It’s a bit late."

"You're planning on forcibly flinging students several hundred yards into the air to land in a Grimm-infested forest."

"I am."

Ferra stared up at her boss's amused expression, aghast. 

"I thought you would be pleased, Ferra. No more 'cryptic orders' from me over the summer. Besides, I'm rather tired of thinking of new and inventive ways to form teams. This is...efficient."

 _"That's_ your concern?"

"I did consider staging an airship emergency and have the students have to jump directly," Ozpin mused. "But I deemed that potentially too traumatic. This is more contained, and removes any liability from the airship pilots."

"And entirely on Beacon Academy," Ferra snapped. 

"The parents sign waivers," Ozpin said, unconcerned. 

"Have you _tested_ this contraption?"

"Of course."

Ferra frowned. "Yourself?"

"Don't be silly, Ferra. Peter Port was quite the willing volunteer."

"The fourth year? Is...is that why you made him a TA this year?"

"We had an accord.”

“He wanted the job and you wanted a test subject?” Ferra demanded.

“Ah, here they are," Ozpin said, evading the question as the students appeared at the top of the hill. "Don't they look younger every new year?"

Ferra narrowed her eyes at Ozpin for a moment longer; ironic that the man should discuss age and youth, when - after so long - the headmaster himself seemed never to age. She had thought of him as young when she was first hired; despite his silver hair, his face was youthful. She could not quite estimate his age - he seemed simultaneously too old and too young to yet be forty. And yet, fifteen years later, she wasn't certain he had shown any indication of aging at all. Just the other day in his office he removed his glasses to clean them; Ferra had paused mid-sentence, surprised by how unbelievably young he still looked.

She thought more than once about asking regarding if Ozpin used some manner of skin cream, but she refused to give him the satisfaction that she may find his appearance attractive in the slightest amount.

Meanwhile, Ferra thought, all bitterness as she watched the nervous first-years approach, she was finding more and more silver among her gold hair, the fine lines around her eyes growing deeper with each year. 

Another reason to hate Ozpin.

"All right, children," Ferra said, her voice raising effortlessly, one boy in the front flinching at the unexpected volume. "Gather 'round so we can get this over with."

"Inspiring speech," the headmaster murmured behind her, his tone amused.

"Line up on the stone tiles - one on each, Mr. Royale, you can flirt with the girls after the initiation."

She watched, hawklike, as the students shuffled about, some arguing over which stone tile was better, despite them being identical, internally agreeing with Ozpin that they did look younger than ever; wide, innocent eyes enlarged by nerves or excitement, some in uniform, some still clad in whatever odd fashion teenagers were inclined to wear -

"Sir."

"Yes, Ferra?"

"That...that boy..."

Professor Ozpin followed her gaze, brown eyes locking on a dark-haired boy in uniform, the Beacon blazer paired with...

A girl's uniform skirt.

Ferra busied herself with her scroll, pulling up the roster and identifying the boy as Qrow Branwen. She sincerely hoped that this was not an omen of troublemaking to come from Mr. Branwen, and that perhaps the boy was merely stupid -

Another boy, all blond hair, snickered as he approached Branwen.

"I can't believe you fell for it," he said, giggling. "I mean - is anyone _that_ gullible?"

"I like it!" another student said, a tiny girl with dark red hair and an impressive smile. "I think it's brave."

A group of girls - tardy - hurried past, noticing Branwen in a fit of giggles.

Branwen, raising an eyebrow at his blond classmate, turned to the girls to show off a bare leg. "Like what you see?" he asked.

The girls giggled uncontrollably, scampering off to the remaining tiles.

"Not the newest fashion trend of the day, then?" Ozpin remarked quietly, his smile almost hidden behind his mug.

"I suppose it's harmless enough, in the way of usual pranks," Ferra said, still narrowing her eyes at the blond boy. "Regardless, we should have him change -"

"Welcome, class," Ozpin said, his quiet tones rising as he stepped forward to address the students. "Everyone has settled upon their spaces? Excellent. Today you will decide your teams - or letting gravity decide for you. You will choose your team and your partner after demonstrating your landing strategy."

Another sip of coffee as students digested this information, most exchanging nervous glances. 

"You will land in the forest, and move toward the north until you recover an artifact that will influence your team's formation. The first student you see upon landing will be your partner for the duration of your time at Beacon. Be aware that Grimm are present in the forest; no teacher will come to your aid during this initiation."

 _"Sir,"_ Ferra hissed at this remark, students seeing her reaction with some amount of panic.

"Good luck," Ozpin continued, ignoring her outburst. His eyes traveled over each student, pausing on the interestingly dressed Qrow Branwen. "I look forward to your first impressions."

He removed his own scroll from his jacket, fingers lithe over buttons until, with a soft groan of the hydraulics, the furthest student was ejected into the air, her scream echoing. Immediately the students began to brace themselves, most well-trained from their previous combat schools to have some manner of plan by now, while still others - the blond prankster, for example - remained wholly anxious.

"Ah, sir?" he called from his tile. "What if we break a leg or something when we land?"

"I imagine it would give the Grimm a very easy breakfast," Ozpin said lightly, "and therefore I would recommend a more efficient landing technique."

The boy had only a moment to consider this sage advice before his tile launched him forward, his gasp almost inaudible over the spring.

Qrow Branwen, the last student remaining, snickered, offering the professors a quick wink before he too was flung into the forest.

Ozpin watched his form in the sky for longer than any other, the tiny smile never leaving his lips.

"I think I like him," the headmaster said.

"That sounds like a bad omen for me," Ferra muttered.

Ozpin merely smiled his enigmatic smile, offering his scroll toward her. "Shall we watch the games, then?"

Professor Agrios sighed heavily, her eyes skimming the trees where all the students had vanished, only agitated birds rising from the green.

"Oh, fine," she huffed. "Only because if I don't watch you, you'll end up getting students killed one of these days."

"Why, Ferra," Ozpin said, almost sing-song, "you _do_ care."

She said nothing aloud, only thinking for the fiftieth time that morning how much she hated absolutely everything.


	2. In which Qrow joins a team and Ozpin's assistant considers early retirement again

Qrow, despite being the center of attention, barely registered the surrounding students. Taiyang was right – all of the ladies loved his new fashion sense. 

A fashion he had soon found out was a prank. 

How the hell was Qrow supposed to know it was a skirt?

Raven knew. 

But then again that was the point. 

Taiyang was alright. Qrow’s smile was internal; he would enjoy his revenge.

He counted the seconds until his launch pad triggered, debating the rude idea of pushing off the leftmost coed so he could be first. Shaking his head, Qrow refocused on landing into the Emerald Forest, taking aim on the tallest tree in the distance.

Seconds later, wind brushed past him as he soared through the air; flight time was heaven regardless of his form. The air gripped him a fraction longer than everyone else (had it felt his semblance?), causing him to surpass the landing spots of his peers.

Waiting until the very last second, Qrow primed his weapon piercing the large tree he had selected earlier. He regretted the harsh vibrations in his hands as the colossal sword dug in to the hilt. Despite the massive crash of the weapon and groan of the tree as it debated snapping in two, the boy maintained an almost delicate landing, the weapon to absorbing the shock of the force. 

Perched sideways on the tree, glancing only briefly ahead for the final cliff destination, Qrow kicked his weapon free from the ancient tree slicing it in two along the way, floating to the ground. The giant toppled in his wake as he sauntered off toward his goal.

***

“He’s good.”

Professor Agrios glanced up from the scroll at Ozpin’s amused expression. She raised eyebrows at him.

“You’re impressed.”

The headmaster’s eyes met hers for a moment before flickering back to the screen, where Qrow Branwen was now swaggering – there was no better word for it – away from the tree he had destroyed, the pleats of his borrowed skirt swaying.

“He’s made an impression,” Ozpin corrected. 

“Other students made the same landing,” Ferra said, pointing at the other views from the forest.

“Similar,” Ozpin said. “Not the same.”

“What’s the difference?”

The headmaster’s lips tugged at a smile, the only answer he would give.

“He’s hot-headed,” Ferra said.

“So he is.”

“So you wouldn’t make him a team leader, would you?”

“I do wonder,” Ozpin mused.

Ferra sighed.

***

Annoyed he could not apply other methods to soar to the goal, Qrow noted his surroundings. He vaguely perceived some form of this exercise was to select a partner and team. Neither of which Qrow wanted. 

Both would only serve to slow him down.

Then again there were plenty of cute girls that seemed more than happy to educate the _poor unfortunate foreigner._ Qrow was willing to bet he could educate them on some things too.

But aside from Raven, he was not impressed by the current battle selections (Raven had yet again made it abundantly clear the rules needed to be followed - so first eyes it was). The whole process was ridiculous. What if his partner couldn't keep up with Qrow? Could he get another one? Could he complete the task alone? What if his partner died? Not that Qrow would debate killing his partner...then again not to say he wouldn't. 

There was a difference between debating and doing. 

Sort of.

Qrow's eyes darted about. The familiar prickle of hair on the back of his neck told him he was surrounded by Grimm and would be ambushed in less than two seconds. The student responded with a smirk. In the wild he usually encountered small groups. This was different. Larger. 

Dangerous.

This would be fun.

***

“Sir,” Ferra said, her tone a protest.

“I see them,” Ozpin said. 

“It’s too many.”

“He can handle it.”

“Sir, you don’t know – ”

Ozpin held up a single finger. Ferra fell silent, glancing at the stone tiles behind her. It would only take a few moments to reset one –

Ozpin tapped the screen with Qrow in it; it expanded over the scroll, the feed now a blur of the boy’s red cape, the glint of silver of his sword.

“He can handle it,” Ozpin said again, softly.

“So many of them,” Ferra said, even as the student stood amongst the fallen bodies, panting, a victorious grin on his face. 

“Yes,” Ozpin said. 

“It wouldn't be the first time student nerves attracted them."

“Did Mr. Branwen seem nervous to you?”

Ferra paused. “No, sir.”

“And yet they went to him regardless.”

Ferra looked at the scroll, then back at the headmaster. He was speaking in riddles, as usual.

“That means something to you?”

“No,” Ozpin said, minimizing Qrow again. “Not yet.”

***

The ambush was over too quickly for Qrow's taste. He still had frustrations to work out. Luckily it seemed he couldn't go more than five minutes before being swarmed again. The hack and slash therapy was doing the trick.

Ears perking to his left, Qrow crouched ready for the next attack. 

It never came.

He could sense the Grimm, but they didn’t wander closer. Curious, the boy carefully approached the mob. A stifled scream from a student in the center told Qrow all he needed to know before he lunged forward.

More quick work of the Grimm. If this was the worst the school had to offer, Qrow would be top of his class. Especially when his competition was –

 _Idiot._

The body appeared lifeless, but he was still breathing. Qrow found himself almost thankful the student's eyes were glued shut. Fainted from exhaustion, Qrow mused. The boy's aura was almost invisible, slow beats of blue light, synced with his pulse. Knowing he couldn't leave the body for the Grimm, Qrow hauled it up high into a tree of safety before moving on. No eye contact, no partner according to the rules. If Raven didn't like the loophole, she should have been clearer.

A heavy, yet relieved sigh had the boy climbing up a tree to check his position. The side quest had taken valuable time from him. He watched from tree tops as many couples rushed toward the cliff. It looked like most had paired off except for an odd trio that had made it to the end. Perhaps the sack of meat he had lugged up the tree was theirs.

Qrow narrowed his eyes. He knew that sword. The threesome contained his sister. No more time to waste. The driven young man hit the forest floor all but flying to his goal. Any Grimm along the way stood no chance turning to dust with a swift flick of the wrist.

All at once the trees opened to the clearing containing all the students. Qrow halted as everyone turned to stare at his rapid entrance. The boy froze, uncomfortable with this sudden attention. Eyes darting to each pair sizing him up, he realized they were searching for his partner. Locating his sister, Qrow straightened and crossed the distance to her, still eyeing those staring at him.

Raven nodded and Qrow understood. He had a place on her team. He made eye contact with the other two members just in case. At this point he didn't know who his partner was, but he didn't care so long as everyone stopped staring at him.

A laughing boy spoke too loudly as he passed behind the group, "I bet he just ran the entire way here. Probably scared out of his mind."

Unable to ignore the quip, Qrow scowled at the insulter. He would happily take the guy into the woods and replace his body with the kid in the tree. Maybe leave him on the ground for the Grimm.

“Hey, you made it!” Summer Rose chirped. 

“Yeah. And in that _kilt._ I’m impressed,” Taiyang grinned offering his fist to Qrow. This gesture Qrow was familiar with and completed by punching his new teammate’s fist.  
“Ouch!” Taiyang laughed shaking his injured hand. “I’m glad you’re on our team…”

All eyes locked reassuring the boy that this was indeed his team. Raven met Qrow's gaze again and guided his to the relics.

Summer spoke first, "I am so glad someone came in alone. We didn't know what to do when we couldn't find a fourth. But now we can finally pick up the other relic!"

“Relic?” 

“Pocket watches,” Taiyang said. “There are a few left.”

Qrow glanced around at the stone altars. Most were empty, but a flash of gold caught his eye. He snatched it from the altar and returned to his new team, turning it over in his palm. It was an intricate thing, with a glass cover, the gears below spinning with the second hand. Beneath the gears, the watch seemed to contain a green glow.

Most importantly, it was shiny.

“Lemme see,” Summer said, pulling his hand down and inspecting his choice.

“I knew you wouldn’t resist the gold one,” Raven said.

Qrow raised an eyebrow at her.

She held out her own watch.

Silver. Silver and red.

_So that’s how it was._

“Guess that means I’m your partner,” Summer said, grinning. 

Qrow shrugged. “Guess so, short stack.”

“Hey, I’m still growing!”

_“LISTEN UP, STUDENTS.”_

The team flinched together, turning to find a professor among them – the short, wild-haired professor that flung them from the cliff. 

“Who’s she again?” Taiyang asked.

“Agrios,” Raven said. 

“You’d better get used to her,” Qrow said. “If you keep up the shitty pranks.”

“Hey, that was _good – ”_

“Am I _boring_ you, Mr. Xiao Long?”

Another flinch. Taiyang turned back to Professor Agrios, his expression sheepish.

“No, Professor.”

“Good. Then shut up and get your team back to Beacon for dorm assignments. In your dorms, you will find your instructions for the team naming ceremony. _Don’t. Be. Late.”_

“Don’t think I made a good impression on her,” Taiyang said, with a nervous laugh.

“She’s not the one you need to impress,” Raven said.

“Yeah? Then who is?”

Instead of answering, Raven turned red eyes behind them, where the cliffs stood proudly above.

***

Professor Ozpin remained alone on the clifftops, wind running cold fingers through his hair. Onscreen, medical personnel had arrived to rescue the still-unconscious Mr. Royale from his hiding place in the trees. Other students remained in the forest as well; their coordinates were sent to TAs to guide them out.

This manner of disappointment occurred every year, no matter how particular Ozpin was with the admission process. Then again, these were students with something to prove now.

Either way, their progress would be interesting.

But perhaps _not_ as interesting as another.

He closed his scroll and replaced it safely in his coat pocket, lifting cold coffee to his lips. 

Qrow Branwen had unmistakably attracted Grimm. That in of itself was not remarkable. Nerves, stress, self-doubt – all these emotions would attract them.

Mr. Branwen was stressed, but he was looking for a fight. Happily so.

And still they came, leaving the presence of more strained emotions, of students far unhappier than he.

An innate attraction.

His twin sister did not appear to share it.

Ozpin finished his coffee, removing the cane from beneath his arm. He gave the Emerald Forest one last glance, as though he could see the far-off figures of his students trekking back to his school.

He had the usual pressing matters of the new school year to attend to, the dozens and dozens of teams to name, the difficult decision of assigning leaders, of weighing what would be best for both teams and individual students alike. It would keep him up nights; he rarely slept the first week of the academic year.

And yet before all else, when he reached his office, Professor Ozpin would look up Qrow Branwen’s application once more.

***

_Shit... I almost got away with it too._

The faculty elevator in the great hall was pristine, steel and shine, reflecting Qrow’s fallen expression back at him. He frowned, watching his eyebrows knit.

The first week of classes had scarcely begun and he had been in as many fights as there were days in the week. The disapproving glances from professors, the harsh lectures, the glares from classmates he pissed off – 

His stealth skills would need refining asap. 

He also needed something else to think about, unclenching tight fists, his fingers aching.

The doors slid open without a sound; Qrow stepped in, looking around the elevator. A long grid of numbers glowed, the topmost one –

_Headmaster’s Office._

Qrow pushed it and waited.

And waited.

A red light came on above him. He looked up and found a camera in the corner, the lens swirling as it focused. His hair rose, feeling the eyes on him.

Then the light flickered to green, the doors closed silently again, and he felt the floor begin to rise.

Hell of a security system.

_The headmaster’s probably paranoid as a virgin in a whore house._

He knew he had met one – two? – crypt keepers in charge of this place during initiation, but they were just the professors… lecturers… prison wardens. Something like that. He remembered Agrios, the old hag with the shrill voice. There had been someone else, but Qrow wracked his memories in vain.

_Probably some old prickly, wrinkly cactus as dry as the desert._

Gross.

_That old woman might have been her. She seemed like she had a stick up her –_

No, the old hag couldn’t have been headmaster. Raven said at the initiation that they didn’t need to impress her. Raven was always more attuned to social standings. 

Qrow just wanted to fight everyone.

The elevator doors opened much sooner than expected into the top room of the tower.

The headmaster’s office, soaring above the rest of Beacon, was eerily quiet, the horizon stretched out far below panoramic windows.

From here, Qrow figured the headmaster could see almost anything happening in the school.

Somewhere, a soft ticking echoed faintly, like a clock. The sounds seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Qrow eyed the room suspiciously, noticing gears floating in the above the open floor design. Each turn ticked, the room resonating with it; Qrow felt each tick like the tightening of a noose. The headmaster’s desk, spotless glass and steel, was unoccupied, the tall metal chair empty, an unassuming silver cane resting against one arm.

“Please, come in, Mr. Branwen.”

The voice was soft, only just heard above the gears. Normally Qrow would scoff at such a voice, all gentleness, no confidence.

But this was different. 

The command was spoken softly, as though the man did not feel the need to raise his voice to be obeyed. Qrow sucked in a long breath and stepped forward.

A man stood just beyond the desk, clad in a suit – black jacket and dark green slacks – hands clasped behind his back. 

_White hair... figures. Must be ancient._

He looked vaguely familiar. Qrow eyed the figure for a moment watching the man as the man watched the scenery from the magnificent window. Qrow spent a moment more to ensure no others were lurking about. 

The headmaster didn’t seem to think it necessary to say more.

More confident of his surroundings, the young man strode into the room – youthful arrogance ablaze. 

"Hey, Teach – ”

"Please have a seat, Mr. Branwen." 

The command – it was unmistakably one – was polite. But the interruption carried a clear meaning.

Professor Ozpin turned to face Qrow as he gestured to a seat across the massive desk. 

Qrow paused, surprised by the unexpectedly young features that faced him behind small, tinted glasses.

Without a word, Qrow sat.

 _How old is he?_

"I have been told you have reached your third strike..."

"About that – ”

"Two days ago." 

The boy winced. For being one who prided himself in not giving a shit what anyone thought, this guy was clearly someone he shouldn't piss off.

He gave a little shrug, trying not to make it look passive aggressive.

"Sorry?"

“It’s an impressive record, certainly, the ratio of enemies to friends you’ve acquired in such a short amount of time,” the headmaster continued, resettling his cane against his desk. Qrow hadn’t noticed a limp; he eyed the cane, aware that it was likely a weapon in hiding. 

_What kind of semblance would a headmaster have?_

“I’m an overachiever,” Qrow said.

Was that a smile? Qrow couldn’t be sure; the expression was gone, Ozpin pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"It’s a good thing for your sake that we are more lenient here at Beacon than in Atlas. But the fighting ends here, Mr. Branwen, unless you are in a mandated match in class." Professor Ozpin took a seat in his big, imposing chair and eyed the student with a small glint dancing in the corners of his eyes.

"Okay." 

_What is with this guy?_

"You sure you don't want to just toss me out that fancy window there and get rid of me while you can?" 

"I assure you I won't be launching you out of my office any time soon."

Catching another twinkle of what could only be described as amusement in the older man's eye, Qrow glared. 

_That’d be one thing he wouldn’t launch his student from._

Agitated and wanting to escape as soon as possible, the young man bit his tongue. "I'll... try..." 

A steel vice seemed to be clamping down on his tongue, making it impossible to finish the lie.

Ozpin raised one eyebrow, almost imperceptive. 

"That is the best I could ask for, Mr. Branwen." The headmaster rose once more. "But please believe me when I say I do expect you to _try."_

 _So what if I don't?_

"Tch." Rising and turning to leave, the teen was once again cut off.

"Mr. Branwen, keep in mind if you are unable to refrain from causing further altercations, we will be required to monitor you quite heavily. For now, spend some quality time in your dorm. Two days should suffice. You may leave for classes and meals. The remaining time should be spent in quiet meditation of your current situation and the motivations behind your actions.”

 _Well fuck you too._

Qrow stormed out, desiring nothing more than to fly away from this caged hell to which he was sentenced. Turning about on heel and punching the elevator door closed, he glared at the ageless, silver-haired man that seemed to be smirking at him. 

_That condescending asshole._

Arriving in his dormitory, the student slammed the door behind him and stormed over the window. 

_This is bullshit. Two days of solitary?_

Qrow surveyed the room for some glimmer of hope. 

The window called to him once more. He inspected the locks and smirked. 

_Child's play._

The lock sprung easily.

From the height of the clock tower, Professor Ozpin watched the crow slip from the window and into the sky, the image flickering in the floating monitors above his desk.

***

Professor Ferra Agrios watched seventeen year-old Qrow Branwen stalk out of the headmaster's direct elevator, hands shoved in pockets, back hunched over, the black cloud of his mood following him out of the main hall. Gold eyes followed him for a few moments, not quite certain he could walk across the hall without somehow causing another disturbance. His poor attitude encouraged her own positivity, for it meant that the headmaster had taken appropriate measures against the boy's behavior. 

She pressed for the elevator and gave her name to the com line without waiting for the voice prompt, the elevator rising, a gentle pull against its own gravity. 

The headmaster's office greeted her with the happy ping of the elevator doors and the soft ticking of the gears overhead, the room saturated with the bright sunlight of the afternoon. At the headmaster's desk, three glowing monitors floated, the glass reflecting the colors of the text. The chair was empty, turned toward the great windows of the back of the office, the headmaster's cane resting against the desk, unsupervised. 

"Good afternoon, Ferra," Professor Ozpin said quietly over his coffee mug, as she joined him at the window. 

"Good afternoon, sir," she said, glancing up at him. From her height, his tinted glasses hid his brown eyes, obscuring his mood. Not that it mattered, she thought, for Ozpin was rarely inclined to allow hints to his thinking on any other day, whether she could study his expression or not. She shook her caplet from her hands and folded her arms with a sigh, following the headmaster's gaze down to the courtyard below. 

"He didn't take it well," she said, when Qrow's form appeared at the main hall doors.

"On the contrary," Professor Ozpin said, sipping his coffee. "I think it went _very_ well."

Ferra raised an eyebrow at him. "You _did_ inform him of his standing, didn't you?"

"Of course. He agreed to try to improve."

"Under probation."

"Under two days' solitude."

_"Sir."_

"Under the circumstances, Ferra, I don't think probation is appropriate."

"Sir, the circumstances include more than five infractions, not limited to the fight in Professor Peach's class – "

"I'm more than aware of the incidents," the headmaster said, granting her a brief glance before turning from the window. "Mr. Branwen interests me. He comes from a troubled past and a troubled family, but he carries more than merely that. He carries potential."

Ferra sighed again, this time more loudly.

"Sir," she said, "I don't disagree with you about Mr. Branwen's talents, but I do regarding his treatment."

"His punishment?"

"His _special_ treatment."

Professor Ozpin took a seat at his desk, giving her an amused half smile. "Why ever would you call it that, Ferra?"

"This is what you do, sir," Ferra said, the headmaster's smugness lending sudden thoughts to ripping his mug out of his hand with her semblance. "You find these stray, troubled students and you play favorites. You find their disobedience charming for reasons I will never understand, and then you look the other way when they cause chaos. Once in a while I can handle just fine. But sir, _please_ don't tell me Mr. Branwen is your next pet project. He's not merely a nuisance; he's a tornado."

"They say the sky turns green when a tornado hits ground," Ozpin remarked idly.

"Don't give me a _non sequitur_ for an argument, sir. If the sky turns green when Branwen is loose, it's because you gave him the wind to do it."

 _"Cum hoc ergo propter hoc,_ Ferra," came the amused reply. 

"Just tell me you don't intend on giving him any wind."

"He'll need a number of remedial lessons," Ozpin said. "Basic etiquette, social graces, deportment, patience – my goodness, _patience_..."

Ferra restrained a groan, closing her eyes, imagining the next four years with Qrow Branwen as the headmaster's new favorite. 

"It's as though you don't hear a word I say," she said.

"Chess would teach him patience - and strategy. I have not reviewed his combat files, but I dare say he relies entirely too much on instinct. I wonder if he knows how to play chess..."

"Sir, you don't have the time to personally train every student in Beacon," Ferra interrupted, exasperated. 

"No, you're absolutely right," Ozpin said, his ears choosing to work again. "That's why I play favorites."

Ferra recognized a losing battle and so pulled back her protests. "Fine," she said shortly. "I hope Mr. Branwen is especially troublesome to you, sir."

"Thank you for the encouragement, Ferra, but I don't think Mr. Branwen will object to improvements upon his character," the headmaster said, "once I impress upon him the necessity of it."

"I'll enjoy saying 'I told you so,' sir."

Opzin chuckled and sipped his coffee. "You always do," he said serenely.


	3. In which Qrow tries to behave and is still sent to the headmaster's office

Two weeks had passed and Qrow encountered only minor infractions – been _caught_ for minor infractions – which Qrow considered a complete success. 

That headmaster was no joke. And there wasn't something right about him. He knew how to get under Qrow's skin like others hadn't. 

Confinement.

The worst sentence of all. 

He’d rather be expelled than spend the rest of the year in solitary. But if Qrow got expelled, then he might as well be in solitary since Atlas would be his last option.

And that was _not_ an option. 

The crow-haired boy rounded a corner and came upon a group of older boys. Third-years, maybe? They seemed to face Qrow as a single entity. He didn’t recognize them, but that didn’t mean shit. Qrow had pissed off enough students, and those students had friends.

_Why do I feel like my luck just ran out?_

The boys grinned widening their stance for a fight. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Qrow hated that phrase. And he had a short temper. 

_Don’t get into a fight, don’t get into a fight -_

"The cat didn't drag anything," he said coolly, despite his internal clock counting down the seconds until the group sprang into action. 

This wasn’t the first time he had been jumped. 

"Cute, birdy. You should fly away before you get squashed.” A particularly egotistical twat smacked his friend’s shoulder, demanding a laugh at the poor joke.

"Back off before you end up making out with the floor."

"Hahaha. We'd love to see that."

Although the attackers moved first, Qrow struck with lightning speed, ensuring it was a quick battle. The whole thing was too soon, the target wishing his peers were stronger, better, an actual challenge. 

Once the attackers were laid out on the floor – face first as promised – Qrow smirked. These guys were nothing compared to the Grimm the pupil often encountered in the wild – or worse, the _family_ he grew up with. 

“Efficiently done, Mr. Branwen.”

The smirk fell immediately. 

_Fuck._

Qrow knew that voice – the one he had avoided for the last two weeks. Sighing heavily, he turned to face his soon-to-be punisher. 

Professor Ozpin regarded the students slowly picking themselves up from the ground.

"Look, I tried, but they asked for it. Literally."

“Gentlemen,” the headmaster said, “please see yourselves to the infirmary for medical attention, if needed. Professor Agrios will meet you there for your statements on this incident.”

The other boys said nothing, shooting daggers at Qrow, but too intimidated by the headmaster’s presence to object.

"Come with me." Ozpin gestured with his coffee mug for Qrow to follow him.

Another heavy sigh from the teen as he obeyed. Expecting to go straight to the tower he was sent to earlier, Qrow was surprised when they passed the elevator doors and began touring the school. A soft breeze blew across across the empty courtyard in silence, the headmaster’s steps unhurried. 

“I swear I didn’t start it – ”

"Why did you come to my school, Mr. Branwen?"

The question took Qrow by surprise. "To be a huntsman," he said, the tone obvious.

"Of course," Ozpin said lightly. "But _why_ do you want to be a huntsman?” 

They paused near the edge of the courtyard, Ozpin sipping his coffee almost carelessly.

“What do you mean, why? To kill Grimm. To hunt.”

“Hmm,” the headmaster said, the noise both thoughtful and noncommittal. “Yes, hunting the Grimm. Putting one’s life in danger to make the world that much safer for others. Somehow I doubt your motives are entirely so selfless.” 

Qrow fidgeted as Ozpin glanced at him over the rim of his glasses. 

“I don’t know,” Qrow said finally. “Never really thought about it.”

“Then maybe,” Ozpin said, “you should take some time to do so. In fact, consider that your penance. I would like an answer to that question – a _real_ answer, Mr. Branwen – the next time you’re sent to my office with an infraction.”

Qrow stared at the headmaster, as if the request was an odd joke.

Ozpin smiled. “Do try to make it a nonviolent infraction, if you please. Until then, off to class with you. Professor Filemot has been informed of your excused tardy.” So saying, he walked off, unconcerned, it seemed, with nothing but the coffee in hand. 

_All of these damn lectures._

Qrow watched until the green suit disappeared from view, annoyed at the ambiguous intent of the headmaster’s cryptic request. 

This was going to be a long year. If he was going to be stuck indoors listening to old windbags, he was definitely going to need some more solo flight time. In fact, that sounded like the perfect ending to a day like today.

***

Two days later, Qrow slumped his head against his desk with a less than subtle thud and an even louder sigh. This level of boredom should be illegal. For fifteen minutes he had been stuck watching some poor Faunus tremble with fear and dodge a Creep the same size as her in his Bestiary class. Qrow was honestly surprised she was still standing.

Another sigh, another fidget, another thud followed by a guttural growl as he repositioned sending the back of his head colliding with the tiered desk behind him.

_This is the easiest damn one they could have chosen. How can she not take this?_

“Just flip over the top when it charges. Hook the face plate and let his own momentum rip the damn armor off.”

Qrow never spoke up in class. He tried to ignore the weight of the stares leveled at him.

“Poke the pointy end of your weapon in the exposed soft stuff.” 

Qrow gestured his hands in a stabbing motion to further demonstrate. 

“Or just slide under and gut as you go. It isn't hard. Be happy it doesn't bleed like animals. That’s a bitch to get off.”

The room had gone quiet and Qrow knew something was wrong. He just couldn't quite put his finger on what it was until he realized the Faunus was paying more attention to him than the Creep. 

So was the rest of the class. 

_Come on, like it’s that unusual I help people?_

The girl's gaze redirected from the Grimm aiming to tear her to shreds to the idiot that had tried to help. Her eyes had the same horrified on-the-verge-of tears look they had had since she stepped onto the platform to fight the beast.

_Was she this stupid?_

“MOVE OR RUN!”

Even the TA – as preoccupied as the rest of the class by Qrow’s surprising attempt at assistance - roused himself to recall the loose Grimm in the classroom.

Too late. 

The Faunus still had her wide, wet-eyed stare on Qrow when the beast came colliding into her. 

The TA intervened then, the young man dispatching the Grimm with uncharacteristic efficiency, running a hand over his dark moustache.

“Miss Russet, are you injured?”

The girl shook her head quickly.

“You’re sure? Your partner can escort you to the infirmary – ”

“I’ll be all right, Mr. Port.”

Qrow cursed and took his seat again unable to bring himself to look at the pathetic excuse for a Huntress. He growled under his breath, “You are going to get yourself killed...”

From beside him, Taiyang shifted. “Come on, Qrow, you’ve made your point.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a _point_ ,” Qrow snapped. “I was trying to help.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Tai said, lowering his voice as though hoping Qrow would follow suit. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You shouldn’t talk about killing,” Taiyang said. “Animals, I mean. In front of a Faunus.”

“What, she doesn’t eat meat?” Qrow retorted, snorting. “Sorry for trying to help then. I’ll shut my trap next time and let her get mauled instead.”

Taiyang fell silent, the TA dismissing the class with a reading assignment about Creeps. Qrow hadn’t even gathered his things before the inevitable announcement followed.

“Mr. Branwen, a word after class, if you please.”

He sighed petulantly, falling back into his seat, motioning with one hand for Tai to go one without him. Tai gave a sympathetic shrug and hurried to catch up to Raven, who never seemed to notice his presence or absence.

Mr. Port settled an elbow on Qrow’s desk, eyeing the student.

“Helping, were you?”

Qrow rolled his neck. “I know how it looks, so if you’re gonna give me detention or send me to the old man’s office, then save the lecture and just do it.”

Port did neither. Instead, he chuckled. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said.

Qrow narrowed his eyes. 

“No need for that look, Mr. Branwen. I mean it. Miss Russet fell into the wrong side of fight-or-flight, and you tried to shake that off her. It was perhaps not the _politest_ way to do it, but if this was a battlefield and not a classroom, that sort of thing doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Guess not.”

“But you know, Mr. Branwen, you needn’t be too harsh on her nerves, you know! Everyone is afraid of something.”

“Not me,” Qrow said defiantly, without thinking of whether it was actually true.

“Ah, well, if that’s true, you are fortunate indeed! But the rest of us are not so lucky. We can’t judge the fears of others that we don’t ourselves experience. Why, I myself am deathly afraid of mice! Isn’t that amusing, a great Huntsman such as myself, able to take down fearsome Grimm, afraid of such a harmless creature! Ha ha!

“So that’s all, Mr. Branwen. My thanks despite it not working out. But best she sees the wrong end of a Creep here and not in the Emerald Forest, eh?” The TA laughed again, a great, genuine, boisterous sound.

Even Qrow felt his lips twitch.

“Yeah? Thanks, Teach.”

“Between you and me, Mr. Branwen, I know you’re not having the best time at Beacon so far, but this was a good step forward. You’re only limited by yourself, you know.”

Qrow sighed. Teachers and their sappy inspirational speeches.

“Who told you that?” he snorted. “Your mother?”

“Professor Ozpin. That and a great many things more.”

“The old man,” Qrow said, leaning back, disinterested. 

“You would do well to listen to him,” Port said enthusiastically. “He’s forgotten more about hunting than I may ever learn.”

Qrow was silent, thinking about the headmaster with the young face and ancient hair, the delicate hands that manipulated his scroll and wrapped around his coffee mug, the unremarkable cane he carried with him always.

_Him, a great Huntsman?_

Everyone seemed to say so. Qrow had more than a few doubts.

“Sure,” he said, earning a great smile from his TA.

“Excellent!” Port said. “I look forward to seeing you speak up more in class! Share that great fearlessness with those who have not reached your level!”

He offered Qrow a farewell pat on the back, humming as he strolled past the red petal remnants of the Grimm he had torn apart in class.

Qrow remained in his seat for a few moments more, thinking about Port’s ramblings, his sycophantic praise of the headmaster. In his tribe, Qrow knew the leader didn’t always fight his own battles; his men and women were devoted. Devoted to die. Somehow, Beacon staff felt the same way toward Ozpin, and Ozpin, in his high clock tower, in his pristine suit, sat back and directed each like the pieces on a chessboard.

Qrow packed up his bag, uncertain how to feel about any of it.

***

Qrow glared at the floor wishing the tiles could burst into flame under the pressure of his superpowers.

Much to his perpetual disappointment, no such thing happened.

Growling loud enough that nearby students visibly edged away from him, Qrow huffed a frustrated sigh.

He didn't _mean_ to scare them.

Then again, they didn't _mean_ to consistently make him the ass end of every joke when his background in the wilderness became an issue. They didn't know he and Raven were raised by bandits. Well, probably didn't know. If they did, he highly suspected they would watch what they let slip a hell of a lot more in fear of-

Fear. There it goes again. Seemed no matter what he did, it came up.

The gentle hand on his back and softest throat clearing startled the boy lost deep in his thoughts.

Whipping around, he confronted the only girl aside from his team willing to talk to him in a mood.

He smirked, looking her over. "Sapphire?"

"Hi-hi, Qrow. You looked upset..." The explanation was weak, startled by his aggression.

"Just the usual. Want to join me?" He extended an arm to the open seat beside him on the park planter. Ever polite, she took the offered seat with a nod.

"Would you like some chocolate? It always helps me when I'm sad."

Qrow chuckled without laughing. "Sad isn't what I'd call it..."

"What would you call it?"

Qrow fell silent. _What was he feeling?_

He filled the pause by shoving a piece of the chocolate offered into his mouth trying not to wince when sugar assaulted his taste buds.

Qrow took his time, letting the candy dissolve.

"Annoyance," he concluded.

Sapphire giggled - her sing-song voice reminding Qrow of soft sounds the wind carries in fall. It was nice. Pleasant. It reminded him of wild freedom he hadn't had since signing up for this damn academy.

"What is troubling you then? Because it looked like you were trying to kill an invisible Grimm on the floor," she said with another comforting giggle.

"I was trying to make the floor explode."

"You - come again?"

"I was trying to make the floor explode. You know, with this," he said gesturing his fingertips to his temple.

"Ah," she nodded knowingly. "Mind control?"

"I don't think the floor has much of a mind to take over."

"Spontaneous combustion?"

This time Qrow laughed, and Sapphire smiled - something unusual for the boy. She seemed genuinely concerned about his moods.

"If only. Not my semblance though," he spoke around a smile.

"What is your semblance?"

"A secret," he winked at the girl causing her to grin back.

"Maybe someday you'll trust me enough to tell me," she teased bumping her slim shoulder against his.

"Maybe...”

Sapphire noticed the abrupt downturn in his mood.

“It's something I don't really like to share.” 

"I-I'm sorry..." she said. "I didn't mean to make you sad when I'm trying to cheer you up."

Qrow chuckled again. "I'm not sad. More like...disappointed."

"Disappointed? Disappointed in what?"

"Assumptions."

"Assumptions? Did you make a bet and it didn't work out?"

"Heh. If only. But sometimes, bad things just happen..."

"Oh... something happened. And you thought it would go better."

"Something like that."

"...Did you want to talk about it?" she asked tentatively. 

"Nope."

Sapphire sighed, resigned to the barrier the boy refused to let down. "Then I wish you luck," she said at last.

"'Luck,'" he repeated with disdain. "I'll pass."

"Not a fan?"

"Luck is a bitch. You work your ass off just to keep up before she can cut you down again."

"But what about good luck?"

"What's that?" he asked so seriously Sapphire burst into a fit of giggles.

"Now you’re just teasing me.”

“I’m not. Good luck doesn’t exist.”

“It's like...what helps everyone get into Beacon and pass last minute exams and stuff."

"Skill," Qrow said flatly.

"No," she said shaking her head. "When you lack skill, it's like what still gives you a good result."

Qrow shrugged. "I've always had skill."

"Confidence is good," she smiled.

Qrow returned the smile wistfully, the boy well aware that his companion misinterpreted his side of the conversation. Another assumption.

"See? Smiling is good."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Well then, I'll see you in class?"

"Sure," he forced a smile one last time as he waved, watching the girl leave.

Sweet as the attempt was, Sapphire solidified one thing: Qrow was destined to be misinterpreted, an outcast never properly understood. 

But it wasn’t terrible… so long as someone like Sapphire tried.

She could bridge his gap to humanity helping demystify the complexities of basic human interactions. 

Basic.

Tch.

Everything in the tribe had been so much easier to understand.

***

The only escape Qrow had from the demands of Beacon was literal escape.

It was a careful trick, to leap from his high dorm window. Sometimes in his haste, Qrow would tear the window open and thrust himself into the air, the narrow windowsill sharp through the sole of his shoe, falling a foot before his body withdrew into itself, wings sprouting to carry him up and away, away from his sister’s judging eyes, the concern and hostility of his classmates, the lectures of his teachers.

The sky was freedom.

No one knew about his semblance – any of it – except Raven. He knew he couldn’t be so careless.

At least, not in daylight.

And so his flights slowly became nocturnal.

A week later, Qrow stumbled into his history course more than halfway through the class. The long “safer” night flights certainly were taking their toll. Maybe he shouldn't be sticking to his crow form when his nest isn't beckoning to him. 

Flopping into his seat, Qrow was asleep in less than two minutes. 

"Qrow Branwen. Headmaster's office. Now." 

Sleepily, Qrow raised his eyes to Professor Peach’s disapproving eyes.

_What the - ? But I just sat down._

Qrow looked at the clock on the wall reflecting the wrong time - an hour in the future. Face screwed up with confusion, he didn't have the energy to argue. Stumbling up and a little less than gracefully making his way down the steps and out the lecture hall, the student vaguely followed orders after another ten minute nap on the way. 

_At least the old man's office has to be quieter than lecture hall._

He pushed the button for access to the headmaster’s office, waiting for the red light to appear.

The light clicked on, followed by the crackle of the comline.

“Good morning, Mr. Branwen,” the soft, soothing voice welcomed.

The light clicked green without another word.

The exhausted boy barely made it up the long tower elevator without another dozing off against the elevator wall. Yawning as the doors opened, he stepped into the familiar room with spinning gears above and took a seat at Professor Ozpin's desk without a word.

The headmaster barely looked down from the soft green glow of his monitors.

"What brings you to my office today?"

"Apparently sleeping in class is a sin." 

The professor chuckled slightly, perhaps impressed this incident did not involve a fight, and rose to refill his coffee mug. He returned with two mugs. 

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Yeah, I made it to brunch every Sunday back home,” Qrow said, the snark involuntary. 

He didn’t have time to worry about being a smartass before the headmaster laughed quietly again.

"Try some. It will help keep you awake. I rely on it.”

Eyeing the cup curiously but too tired to care of the contents, Qrow raised it and took a large gulp. 

Immediately, the dark liquid was spewed up and over the headmaster's desk. 

_Fuck expulsion. He’s trying to poison me!_

Choking and pushing the contaminated mug as far across the desk as possible, the teen gasped for air. "What... the...?"

"Oh dear." Ozpin took a black handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped up the mess, leaving almost graceful streaks across the glass. “Evidently it’s an acquired taste.”

“Why the hell would anyone want to _acquire_ that?”

The headmaster chuckled again. “It’s not for everyone. Perhaps a strong tea would better suit you.”

Qrow watched, all suspicion, as Ozpin rose, his great metal chair sliding soundlessly across the floor. A portion of the wall near the elevator had moved, revealing a dark room beyond, previously invisible. 

“Wait here,” Ozpin said. 

Qrow’s eyes followed the headmaster out of the office, then roved over the empty room with slight misgivings. He had not been instructed to stay in his seat, or not to touch anything, and yet Qrow didn’t move, except to cautiously poke his stained mug a few inches further away. Above him, the great gears turned slowly, the heavy echo of a clock, lulling him back toward sleep.

A quiet beep startled him; a soft green light came from the scroll on the other side of the desk. 

_He left his scroll._

Qrow glanced back at the secret door where Professor Ozpin had disappeared.

Then back at the scroll.

_I could do a lot with the headmaster’s scroll._

Qrow didn’t know _exactly_ what he could do with the scroll, only that it probably gave him access to everything in Beacon. The possibilities…

And yet he did not lift a finger to take the device, merely craning his neck toward the words that appeared on the screen, too curious not to read.

“Anything urgent?”

Qrow slipped back into the chair at the voice.

Ozpin placed another mug before him, steam rising in curls. 

“You’re late for a meeting,” Qrow said, eyeing the new mug with distrust. 

“Oh?” Ozpin picked up the scroll as he resumed his seat, skimming the text. “I suppose it can’t be helped. I’m already in a meeting, you see. That’s tea, by the way. It won’t bite like coffee does.”

Qrow picked up the mug, feeling the warmth on his palms. 

_The coffee was warm too. This could be poisonous._

Apprehensively bending forward to take in the fumes, the student preemptively winced. Lacking the same “bite” as coffee, Qrow brought the beverage in for closer inspection. The herbal mix didn’t seem nearly as toxic and reminded him of meadow springs he often drank from in the wild. Figuring this may be a life or death situation, but no time like the present, Qrow cautiously sipped the tea.

Ozpin’s scroll beeped again, rapid text appearing. Unconcerned, Ozpin silenced it with a finger, reaching instead for his coffee.

“Agrios is gonna be pissed you’re ignoring her.”

“I’ll send her flowers,” the headmaster said, all serenity. 

“Sounds important.”

“Ah, but so is this. You had an assignment. I asked you a question during our last talk and now I am curious to hear your answer. Mr. Branwen, why do you wish to be a Huntsman?”

Qrow thought for a moment taking his time before he spoke, “I have… skills that no one else has. I want to put them to use. Why not use them to become a member of the most elite fighters on the planet? I don’t need fame… it’s just nice to be good at something for once.”

Ozpin raised an eyebrow. “I see. That’s quite the goal, to be useful. I consider it to be one of the worthiest aspirations of mankind. And to do it without expectation of reward…well. That’s the making of a true humanitarian.”

The student scoffed. _Humanitarian_ was not something he had ever been called before and it certainly wasn’t something he was looking to add to his résumé. “I am not some people-loving peacekeeper.” Qrow’s eyes searched for words his tongue did not possess to express his thoughts. 

“If the job needs to get done and I can do it, then I’ll do it. I don’t really care what it is. I don’t want to be in the spotlight. You can get a lot more done if people aren’t watching you. Aren’t paying attention.” 

Qrow shifted in his chair, a small analogy coming to mind. “Like you. People see you, but they don’t pay attention unless you want them to. You stand in the background and watch. You can pull strings and get shit done that way.”

Ozpin took a slow sip of his coffee; his face didn’t change but somehow his eyes looked amused. 

“Is that so,” he said, the phrase not quite a question. 

“You’re good at it, but it’s obvious if you know what to look for.”

“An interesting observation. You’re quite perceptive. That’s a valuable skill in a Huntsman. I think you have a significant and untapped depth of potential, Mr. Branwen. I should be personally disappointed if you cannot find the motivation to at least attempt consciousness in your classes. I recommend a slightly less active night-life. Or,” the headmaster added with half of a smile, “a very strong blend of coffee.”

Qrow’s reaction was instantaneous, involuntary, and brimming with disgust. The student shook his head. “No. I’ll take my chances with the Grimm before trying that again.” 

Another glance at the headmaster’s coffee mug and another full-bodied shake of disdain – much like a crow shuffling his feathers. Ozpin merely sipped from his mug, as though obscuring a smile.

“Am I off the hook, or do I have another sentence? I’ll try to stay awake in class if I have to,” he added, ever hopeful of escaping without further punishment. 

The coffee was bad enough.

“Do you play chess, Mr. Branwen?” the professor asked, the question both casual and abrupt. “You seem to have a fine understanding of the role of the king; it would benefit you to also knowledge the purpose of rules and the intricacies of bending them to one’s will. I believe that will be your sentence.”

Ozpin’s tone seemed to indicate the meeting was at an end. 

_Chess?_

The headmaster shifted his chair distractedly, as though his attention was suddenly somewhere far away.

“Oh, and Mr. Branwen,” Professor Ozpin added before Qrow could rise from his seat, “do study the game well. I’m not in the habit of losing.”

_He wants me to learn chess?_

“Okay…” the perplexed student replied. 

A game couldn’t be too hard to learn. Besides, messing with kings is fun. A curt nod sent the student on his way exiting via the now familiar elevator, absolutely sure now that the headmaster of Beacon Academy was verifiably insane.


	4. In which Qrow gets drunk and inadvertantly has breakfast with Ozpin

During the few months at Beacon Academy, the floating gears in the Headmaster's Office had become Qrow's favorite hiding spot, proving to be the best sanctuary in the school for escaping angry professors, avoiding lightning storms, or for simply being lulled to sleep on the gentle turning masses.

He had, over the last few weeks, built something of a nest in the rotating gears, finding the safest positions among the clockwork, taking in the slowly circling views. The nest in question: nothing more than bits of fabric, soft pine needles, odds and ends nestled together until he could settle in the center, warm and content.

He thought that he ought to be nervous about his choice in nesting location, with the headmaster’s eyes, ever watchful, on the monitors that floated above his desk, soft green glows pulsating with the touch of his fingers, video feed on the grounds, reports on student activity. 

But, Qrow mused, Ozpin didn’t seem to want to lecture Qrow the way the other professors did. The headmaster was odd, unreadable, but for a reason Qrow could not determine, Ozpin appeared to genuinely enjoy Qrow’s company.

So the headmaster wouldn’t mind Qrow nesting in his office, unknown, eavesdropping, imposing.

_Right?_

The weather brought the restless teen to the tower this time, a vicious storm engulfing the skies of the school, thunder bellowing above charcoal clouds. Lightning was the bane of Qrow's existence, flickering seconds before the skies broke up with a roar. For as long as he could remember it had taunted and tormented him, threatening to turn him into crispy crow. 

_Yeah, not today._

A delicate clink of pots and mugs beneath him woke Qrow from an otherwise restful night after the storm ruined his flight plans. The small bird poked his beak over the gear's shifting edge to examine the source of noise, eyes blinking sleep from his vision.

Below, he watched Ozpin pour creamer into his mug. 

_Strange,_ Qrow thought. He only remembered the headmaster drinking black coffee. It was a small detail, and yet one that Ozpin was devoted to. 

Qrow leaned over the ticking gear.

A taste, and then Ozpin hesitated, finally resolving to pour a tablespoon more in, swirling the mug appreciatively. 

_What is he doing?_

The crow continued his study, black eyes following the headmaster as he took a seat at his desk, the assortment of usually unnecessary coffee accessories glinting silver as lightning flashed outside the panoramic windows. Qrow cringed, remembering trying coffee. The shiny objects below did not make him forget the taste, bitter as poison.

And yet Ozpin drank it daily, never without it.

But always without the creamer in the silver milk carafe.

_Is it some sort of antidote?_

The quiet, cheerful ping of the elevator prompted a heavy sigh from the headmaster. Reluctantly rising, he took his mug with him to respond to the summoning. 

Professor Agrios, her shrill voice echoing. A moment of unintelligible conversation, and then Ozpin stepped into the elevator, doors sweeping shut silently.

Qrow descended immediately after, feet clicking against the glass desktop.

The sweet aroma of the cream was alluring.

_Dessert._

Did the headmaster have a sweet tooth?

Qrow couldn’t recall him ever eating.

A clack of his beak and Qrow helped himself. The first sip was curious, the flavor strong but soft, the sweetness preventing the sting of alcohol.

_Alcohol._

The headmaster spiked his coffee.

_Sly old man._

Qrow shoved his entire beak into the cream, sucking down with abandon. Stopping never became an option until his slight form was at capacity. 

He stumbled back on the desk, losing his footing, the bird tumbling to the ground. A loud hiccup echoed in the empty office and Qrow giggled to himself internally. 

_I get why he drinks coffee...he spikes everything!_

Settling into a safe, comfortable squat on the ground, the bird began to bob his feathered head side to side in rhythm with the movement of the room. The calming creamer was his newfound favorite – he was fully convinced it was the best on the planet.

A crash of thunder and lightning startled the crow into less-than-graceful tumble. 

Adrenaline surged within him at the flickering lights in the black sky.

_YEAH, WELL FUCK YOU TOO! I’LL TAKE YOU DOWN! WE’LL SEE WHO WINS ROUND TWO, BITCH!_

He was at the window without thought, spreading his wings. Waiting. 

Waiting. 

Waiting. 

Another crash of thunder and spark of lightning had the bird squawking, hopping back for safety. 

_Shit! I can do this. I can do this. Just gotta fly up and –_

A gust of wind knocked the tiny creature over. Squawking, angry with the wind as if words could tame it, the crow began a hearty run into flight. 

A drunken, topsy-turvey, highly creative flight. 

Rain, icy needles on his back, pelted effortlessly through his feathers, but he barely felt any of it, altered blood fueling him with hot wrath.

Each time lightning struck, Qrow dove after it in intoxicated rage, screeching the bolt out of existence. With reaction time being an issue, there seemed to be a permanent three second delay for any sightseers. 

He spent several hours in this manner of successful lightning slaying, gliding to the ground when his wings would no longer support him, shivering and shaking.

_Oof._

The face first landing was not part of the plan, but at least he made it. Exhausted and sneezing, Qrow found himself thankful he had lost his _caw_ after the battle. 

A sneezing crow is not synergetic with massive victory over your lifetime fear. 

With one last success in mind, the drained creature slipped into the clutches of a comalike sleep.

***

Professor Ozpin turned in his chair at the buzz of his elevator, pressing the button to allow entrance without asking for identification. He watched the rise of the lift idly through the steam of his mug, the silver doors sliding open soundlessly.

“Ferra, thank you,” he said, rising at the sight of his second-in-command. Long ago he had learned not to refer to her as his assistant. 

At least not aloud. 

“Do you have him?”

“Yes, I have it,” Professor Agrios said, with no small amount of irritation. She shook the water from her umbrella and wild blonde hair gracelessly on the headmaster’s spotless floor, her other arm thrusting forward a small bundle wrapped in a damp towel.

“Thank you, Ferra,” Ozpin said again, taking the bundle carefully in his hands.

“I know you’ve a soft heart, sir, but really.” Professor Agrios shook her head, still clearly perplexed by her boss’s eccentricities. “Did you just see it on the monitor and think to call me out in this dreadful weather? It’s just a crow.”

“I’m afraid so,” Ozpin said, revealing the black bird’s rumpled form. “He must be absolutely soaked. That will be all, Ferra. Do be sure to get yourself warm to prevent catching cold.”

His assistant merely rolled her eyes with the exasperation that came with her experience, giving her umbrella one last satisfying shake to spray the dry elevator doors before they closed on her.

Ozpin took the crow to his desk, one hand reaching to remove the emerald scarf from his throat. It made a rather tidy nest, he thought in amusement, his silver cross making it appear almost like a pet’s personal bed. Gently, he scooped up the disheveled crow and placed him within the center of the scarf-nest. Satisfied by his own bedside manner, Ozpin reached over the desk to adjust the temperature of the office a few degrees warmer. 

Ozpin hadn’t the slightest idea of how to properly care for an ill bird. 

But a drunk _Qrow…_

He assumed the crow would awaken in the morning rather worse for wear, but with no permanent damage. He considered leaving a mug of water and a few aspirin, but that would tip a hand he was not yet willing to play, and so Ozpin merely turned down the lights and unlocked a window. That, he surmised, would be enough to allow the crow’s escape without either of them feeling exposed.

With that, Ozpin pressed another series of buttons on the keypad below his desk. To the left of the elevator, a section of the wall clicked softly and swung open to the bedroom beyond. He had never permitted another living creature to stay the night in his office – his home – and yet he did not feel threatened by allowing it tonight.

***

A quarter after six o’clock in the morning, the hidden door in the clock tower swung quietly open. Steam danced from Ozpin’s mug, his slippers silent on the polished floor. The headmaster rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, still waiting for the first sips of coffee to drive his brain into action. He knew from the alerts flashing over his scroll that several dozen messages awaited his immediate attention; their priority was below his requirement for caffeine and the first proper minutes of the sunrise. 

He paused a few steps outside his bedroom, his eyes drifting to where he had left his scarf to be a soggy bird’s nest. The bird in question had not yet ceased to impose on Ozpin’s hospitality.

“Oh dear,” he murmured aloud, with a quiet chuckle. Almost self-consciously, he ran a hand through unkempt hair and checked the tie on his dressing gown, shuffling to the desk for a closer inspection. He considered his usual morning routine of attending to urgent email matters and coffee (always an urgent matter so early in the morning), but the lack of propriety of his dressing gown in the presence of a student made him hesitate to do so. Still, if Ozpin had a seriously ill student on his hands, he would be irresponsible not to check on him.

The crow had stirred somewhat, the black mass still ruffled in a comically askew manner. Ozpin chuckled again, running a finger down the bird’s back to smooth the feathers back into place. 

The crow woke with a start. 

_Ugh. What happened?_

Internal groaning magnified upon beady eyes opening. 

_Shit._

Blinking, Qrow winced at the slightest ray of light. He was still in his crow form and something was definitely wrong. It’d been years since he had a hangover like this. Not since he was tasked with pilfering fuel from Atlas military and stole their moonshine instead…

Qrow tried shaking his head and rising, only to plop back into his makeshift nest. 

One he could not recall making. 

The crow took a minute to steady himself in the vortex. 

_Daylight and spinning room of doom, you can suck it._

What in all the kingdoms had happened last night?

“Shh,” Ozpin said, just above a whisper. He gave the bird a final, gentle pat on the head, crossed to the other side of the office, and opened the window, chill air seeping into the warm room. “Rest now, fly later.” 

The crow eyed the headmaster suspiciously, all uncharacteristic informality in his pajamas, hair clearly indicating he had just come from bed. It was somehow wrong, seeing him like this, and yet Qrow was relieved by it; it meant Ozpin was relaxed. 

He didn’t know who the bird on his desk was.

_Still._

Qrow had never been held or _caressed_ in this form. It was all so very…invasive. But he couldn’t afford to let his identity be known, or so he told himself. And so he allowed the touches for a moment longer, until he felt enough strength to stand.

Qrow hobbled up slow and steadily only to realize his makeshift nest was not a nest at all – but rather the headmaster’s personal scarf. 

_…Shit. Did I steal this?_

A small squawk of panic emitted from the disheveled bird. Quick as he was able, he hopped out of the nest –

\- and flopped head first into the desk. 

Shaking the impact, he waddled a few feet away as if to signify he did nothing wrong. 

_Don’t give me detention, don’t lock me up, don’t put me in a cage…_

Alas, the thoughts consumed the poor intoxicated and hungover bird; he could not focus the rationale he had used moments before – Ozpin did not yet know his identity. 

“Ah,” Ozpin said, almost dropping his coffee mug to catch the panicked bird, scooping up the flailing creature with both hands and placing him back in the makeshift nest. He sighed - short, exasperated, and amused all at once. He put a gentle index finger below the bird’s beak, raising the crow’s face toward his own. 

“Calm down, my friend. You’re safe here.” So saying, he pattered back into his bedroom for a fresh mug that he filled only with water, placing the cup before his companion.

“Drink, if you please,” Ozpin said, sitting at his desk proper, the disruption of his morning routine weighing on his shoulders more than he anticipated. His scroll beeped yet again and he leaned back with his coffee, deciding he no longer cared about his disheveled appearance. 

“Peter Port is the closest thing to a veterinarian I have available on campus, but as he’s more in the habit of killing than saving, I recommend we try to avoid that call.”

Yet again the headmaster surprised the student. The gentle lift of the beak, the reassuring words, the compassionate offer of nonpoisonous liquid – all of which convinced the crow to calm and sample a bit of water. How refreshing it was. Normally he would protest or take it for granted, but his tiny parched body now ached for water. The bird’s eyes gently fluttered shut as he drank more. Perhaps the headmaster wasn’t going to add a mounted crow’s head to his office.

For some time Ozpin worked quietly at his desk, shooting occasional glances toward the now tranquil crow in its tidy green nest. Eventually the hour grew late (and his mug emptier), and he acknowledged the need to dress properly for the remainder of the day. 

Again, the hesitation of leaving an animal – no, a student in disguise – in his office unattended. But the window behind him was open to the morning breeze, and perhaps this was a lesson in trust that even the headmaster was curious to learn. He picked up his mug on the way back into the bedroom, optimistically hoping that he did not return to find his office pilfered or vandalized by an under-the-weather crow.

After a short nap amid the calm atmosphere Ozpin had created, the crow felt much better. The aches and pains of intoxication now ebbing had the little avian perking up. As the headmaster exited the room through the hidden door, Qrow arose, shook the remainder of the harsh morning from his feathers, then made his way out the window for a graceful exit of the otherwise graceless morning. 

Thankful as Qrow was for the care the headmaster provided to him, he could not stand the awkward moment should he return and find the bird still in his room. He refused to become someone’s _pet,_ so best he move on and attempt school. 

It wasn’t like he had any other choice.

***

Many weeks of necessary freedom flights, fights and fun had proven fruitful for the adolescent crow. At the beginning of the term, Qrow had been slim and small. He had since gained much mass in raw muscle and shed his less attractive feathers. The youth admired his new physique in a pond in the courtyard. 

_Survival of the fittest, eat your heart out._

Turning on heel to preview the other sleek side, he paused midway for a quick shake of his tail feathers, cooing at his own reflection. 

High in the headmaster’s tower, Professor Ferra Agrios, the long-suffering assistant to Professor Ozpin, stood beside his desk, her fingers moving rapidly over her scroll as she confirmed a number of meetings for the week. The chaos of the beginning of the academic year was only just easing; the first-years had been enrolled, sorted into teams, and integrated successfully into Beacon (with the exception of the ever-present troublemakers, underachievers, and otherwise headache-inducing students – one of which who was already given over-indulgent attention from the headmaster himself). Now came the heavier topics of the curriculum that came with heavier risks to student health and, she acknowledged with the thirty-seventh sigh of the morning, heavier professor involvement to prevent injuries and emergencies.

Which meant meetings.

Professor Agrios was hardly against meetings; even the most boring conference often resulted in being useful in some manner or another, and it was imperative that all teachers were up to date on the expectations and duties they performed in their classes. The problem was rarely the regular faculty, whose combined dedication was enough to keep them returning loyally enough to the yearly discussions of student safety. However, Beacon’s headmaster…

As if he could sense her thoughts turn to him, Professor Ozpin gave a quiet chuckle. Professor Agrios lowered her scroll to find the headmaster leaning back in his chair, a mug in one hand and the other palming his chin, a one-sided smile on his lips.

On one of his monitors, he had closed the morning’s minutes and opened a video feed of the campus courtyard, where a small black crow was sunbathing near the pond.

She raised an eyebrow very, very slowly, and sighed for the thirty-eighth time.

“Taken up bird watching, have we?” she remarked, unable to fully hide her clipped tone.

“Not officially,” Ozpin said, looking up over his glasses and offering her a full, nearly innocent smile. “But I find it does have its merits.”

For not the first time, Professor Agrios wondered if anything would even get done once she retired.

“Sir, since you were unable to attend the health and safety meeting this morning,” she said, her hints far from the realm of subtlety, “if you could approve the minutes…”

“Oh, I’m sure everything is in top order,” Ozpin said, his eyes back on the preening crow. “It always is when you’re involved, Ferra.”

“I – thank you, sir,” she said, enjoying the compliment despite herself. She sighed yet again, but allowed herself to pause in her work and also gaze at the bird on the monitor. It was cute enough, she supposed, but she was a cat person; and she couldn’t quite understand why the headmaster was so particularly distracted by the bird beyond merely avoiding his work.

“Partial to crows?” she asked, knowing full well she could not demand back the headmaster’s attention.

“I’m beginning to be, yes,” Ozpin said, in that particularly irritating tone that often suggested hidden meanings. “They’re quite clever, crows. I’m afraid I don’t know much about them, but I would like to learn.” So saying, he rose from his chair, refilling his coffee mug from the silver pot. “Is there still popcorn in the faculty lounge?”

“I – popcorn?” Professor Agrios repeated blankly. Her mind caught up quickly, and she huffed indignantly. “For the bird?”

“Yes, I think he might enjoy it. And if he doesn’t, more for me, I suppose.” Ozpin took mug and cane and scrolled toward the elevator. “Care to join me?”

Sigh number forty, and it was only 11:23 in the morning.

“Will you approve the damn meeting minutes if I do?”

“I suspect I must,” the headmaster said, chuckling. “You seem on edge today, Ferra. Perhaps we should reinstate the decaf coffee in the faculty lounge, despite last year’s decree.”

“Pot, kettle,” she grumbled, shuffling after him into the elevator. “You wrote that decree yourself.”

Ozpin gave a tiny shrug. “Only because Professor Filemot so often refilled the pot with decaf in the afternoon. It quite put me to sleep.”

Professor Agrios snorted. “I suspect you don’t sleep at all, sir.”

Ozpin merely smiled, enigmatic as always, and pushed the button for the faculty lounge.

“What makes you think the crow will still be there?” she asked, annoyed by her own curiosity.

Ozpin glanced at his watch. “Afternoon classes don’t begin until one o’clock.”

Professor Agrios waited for the next sentence that might connect her question with the non sequitur offered, but she was met only with silence. She thought of asking for clarification, an explanation, or even just cursing at him for speaking in tongues, but so many years at Beacon, she did none of these. Instead, she sighed and turned her attention back to the meeting schedule on her scroll.

Beside her, Professor Ozpin watched the movement of the elevator hand and serenely sipped his coffee.


	5. In which Qrow takes etiquette lessons and it goes as well as one would imagine

The first alert came at 9:27AM.

Ferra Agrios glanced down from Professor Ozpin’s monitors to where her scroll buzzed angrily against the glass of the headmaster’s desk. 

“Security,” Ozpin remarked, his eyes following hers. 

She tried not to be annoyed by the headmaster’s unconcerned tone, picking up the vibrating device.

Then she sighed.

“Another student altercation?” Ozpin asked, already back at work, fingers typing a response to an email.

 _Altercation._ A flowery term for _fight._

“Did you get the same notification?”

“No, just an educated guess.”

“A fight in the locker rooms before class. Professor Filemot has them separated and claims neither need medical attention.”

“Best to check these things in person,” Ozpin replied, giving no indication he intended on doing so himself.

Ferra waited a moment longer, gaze following the movement of Ozpin’s mug to his lips, his eyes skimming rapidly over his monitors.

He didn’t seem to notice her dramatic sigh.

The air was still crisp with the approach of winter, Ferra shivering slightly as she stepped out of the main hall. The cold weather was just another reason to hate the morning, and the fall term, and generally everything. 

At least the morning promised the potential to properly discipline a student or two. She hoped it was Professor Ozpin’s pet.

She could hear the shouts coming from the locker room when she approached the arena.

 _Boys,_ she thought. It was always boys. The girls knew how to draw blood without resorting to physical violence.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Professor Filemot wheezed when Ferra arrived. 

“What is the situation, Owen?” she asked.

Owen Filemot was a nervous thing, a man skilled in theory but prone to flight-or-fight reactions that Ferra found did not lend itself to traits of a successful Huntsman. And yet Ozpin trusted him to teach, and so Ferra said nothing, merely coming to the professor’s aid when called.

Filemot pushed thick glasses up his nose, wringing his hands. “These two got into it just before class. I think Mr. Branwen…booby-trapped Mr. Xiao Long’s locker…”

Team STRQ.

_Of course._

Ferra turned a sharp eye on the two boys, Taiyang Xiao Long still red-faced, held back by Summer Rose. Qrow Branwen met her stare, red eyes empty of everything save contempt.

“Go on with the rest of your class, Owen. I can handle Team STRQ.”

Professor Filemot didn’t hesitate, ushering the other students out quickly, young voices chattering excitedly at being able to witness the moment Professor Agrios’ judgment dropped.

“Miss Rose, you can let him go. If Mr. Xiao Long attempts another go at Mr. Branwen, he’ll learn about my semblance firsthand.”

Taiyang went slightly pale at the threat, his limbs going limp. Summer’s grasp loosened, her eyes darting between the two boys, her face all concern.

Raven remained behind, looking bored.

“So, which of you would like to tell me what happened?”

A moment of silence fell, glances exchanged, until Ferra cleared her throat.

“You know that sap we collected a few days ago?” Qrow asked, his voice flat. “For that team building exercise?”

“Yes, Mr. Branwen. What about it?”

Qrow motioned to a row of lockers behind them. One in particular was cracked open, oozing magenta sap down the door.

“Ta-da,” Qrow said.

Ferra sighed.

“I _had_ stuff in there, you jackass,” Taiyang snapped.

“What, condoms so you can keep trying to fuck my sister?”

“YOU –“

Neither boy had an opportunity to move; their feet locked in place, legs glowing gold. Qrow swore loudly; Taiyang made a surprised noise, the rage in his face vanishing.

“I warned you both,” Ferra said quietly. “Now, will you behave, or do I need to lower your centers of gravity a bit more? I promise it will be…uncomfortable.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Taiyang said quickly.

“Mr. Branwen?”

Qrow made a face, but his eyes dropped to the unfamiliar weight in his legs.

“Fine,” he said.

“So that’s what this is about?” Ferra asked, turning instead to Raven.

The girl gave a shrug. “I’m not fucking him.”

“Miss Branwen, I don’t care in the _slightest_ if the two of you eloped tomorrow and threw a damn parade, so long as you all stop _vandalizing my school._ Do you think you can all handle that small miracle?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Summer chimed in.

The only member of Team STRQ that didn’t require saying it.

She nudged Qrow and Taiyang, earning mumbled agreements. Ferra raised an eyebrow at Raven.

“Yes, Professor,” she said obediently. Coldly.

Ferra decided she liked Raven even less than her brother.

“Detention,” Ferra said, releasing the boys and watching them with some pleasure as they stumbled. “As much as it takes for you two boys to work together and clean that locker. I want it _spotless.”_ Now get back to class before you find some new ways to irritate me.”

The team shuffled off, Raven waiting for Taiyang to reach her side, Qrow shooting them glares. 

“And Miss Rose?”

“Yes, Professor?” Summer halted, her eyes large.

“This is _your_ team. A team must rely on itself in life or death situations.”

“I…I understand, Professor.”

“Do you?” Ferra asked.

The girl steeled her expression, giving a curt nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll see to it.”

“Good girl,” Ferra said. “Professor Ozpin wasn’t wrong to make you leader. Don’t forget that.”

Summer nodded once more and then scampered off to catch up with her team.

***

As Professor Ozpin had promised, he sent Qrow a schedule of lessons meant to make him into a _gentleman_ \- or at least a somewhat functioning human being in common social situations.

The first of Qrow's dance lessons with the headmaster fell on a Friday, classes concluded for the week and Ozpin's incessant stream of work at least on pause for the afternoon. The initial lessons with Qrow were going precisely as Professor Agrios had predicted; Qrow was silent, surly, obeying the headmaster only after a clear expression of unhappiness. He repeated polite greetings in his first deportment lesson, if only in a deadpan voice; he straightened from his eternal slouch when Ozpin corrected his posture, if only with a sigh and roll of his eyes; he gave Ozpin an absolutely incredulous look when the headmaster sat the student in front of an empty dinner setting and asked Qrow to recite which utensil was used for what purpose.

“I don’t know,” Qrow had said flatly.

“We’ll begin with the basics, then,” Ozpin said, undeterred by this unpolished response. “Certainly you know the difference between steak knives and butter knives.”

“I usually just eat with my hands,” Qrow said, and he was almost positive he saw Ozpin’s composed expression falter, as if finally acknowledging the challenge the headmaster had taken on.

“Is it real silver?” he had asked.

“Yes, and I will count every piece before you leave,” Ozpin said evenly.

Nevertheless, Qrow began to learn, even if he dragged his feet.

But dancing…

This was a horse of another color.

Professor Ozpin had hand-picked several hours of music, waltzes and polkas and even one or two tangos, although the headmaster did not expect to quickly master the basics with his unrefined student. No, it was likely most of their lessons would remain on the traditional waltz. 

Qrow didn’t find this reason for celebration. He dreaded the lessons, the act itself. He was a fighter, not a dancer.

Ozpin had attempted to reassure Qrow that most of his first-year classmates would be just as inexperienced to formal dancing, but it hadn't sufficiently placated Qrow. 

So dance lessons it was.

The headmaster didn't mind. He enjoyed dancing in general, and any time Qrow spent with Ozpin was time the student was not getting into fights, pranks, or avoiding all his classmates.  
Qrow arrived only a few minutes late (an improvement from earlier appointments), his uniform jacket missing, his sleeves rolled up casually. Ozpin let the dress code formalities slide; it was, after all, Friday afternoon.

The headmaster, of course, was dressed as properly as usual, straightening his tinted glasses as Qrow approached the desk.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Branwen. I trust you're ready for your first lesson?"

"Ready as I will ever be," the student replied. He still wasn't sure this was a good idea. 

_Dance lessons._

It sounded stupid, even to someone as socially removed as Qrow. But if it prevented him from looking like he was completely incompetent, the boy figured he had nothing to lose.

_Especially if Sapphire said yes._

"Where do you want me?" the boy asked, standing awkwardly in the center of the massive office.

"Exactly as you are," Ozpin said, tapping a few keys on the monitors floating over his desk. A soft waltz started, the gears above almost counting off the beat.

"The first rule to a formal dance," the headmaster said, leaving his cane by his desk chair and joining Qrow in the center of the office, "is a short acknowledgement of your partner. This is generally demonstrated by a short bow, then the offer of your hand." 

As an example, the professor offered the student a bow from the waist, held for only a moment before rising and extending his right hand.

Qrow soundlessly gasped, but clasped his lips shut quickly after. He eyed the professor cautiously. 

This was peculiar...so very peculiar. 

_It had to be a coincidence._

The boy fought the flush threatening his cheeks as he attempted a bow - form naturally bending into place much better than expected for a first-time dance. Slight balance issues aside due to embarrassment, his form wasn’t half bad.

"Very good. Do be sure to keep your hips and neck static - only your spine should move. Vale tends to be rather lax with the proper form of bowing, but I assure you Atlas socialites will take note. If I may?"

Ozpin placed one hand on Qrow's shoulder and the other on the small of his back. "Simply bend at the waist. Keep your shoulders squared back."

The student lost his focus, heat radiating at the points of contact. Straightening too abruptly, the boy's head collided with the headmaster's chest. Immediately reeling a spin on his heel before his face could be seen, Qrow stepped away clearing his throat.

"At least take me out to dinner first, Professor," he snapped.

Ozpin raised a single eyebrow.

"Shit. I meant..." Qrow went silent, unsure of how to explain.

He hadn't _meant_ to insinuate anything with the professor. Snark was simply his default state of mind. Especially when he was on edge. 

_But seriously?_

Qrow had seen moves like this before - a bow, steps to the side, then another bow...but that was a crow. 

And it was a _mating_ dance. 

Last time, Qrow just kicked the bird off the branch and went on his merry way.

Something told him he couldn't kick Ozpin off the clocktower.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Qrow stuffed the uneasiness of the situation back down to the pit of his stomach, then turned to face the headmaster again.

He couldn't give up. Especially this soon. He was secure enough in his masculinity to handle this. He wasn't a pansy ass bitch.

Locking eyes, he swallowed an already dry throat.

Or if Qrow _was_ a pansy ass bitch, at least he was going to look fabulous on the dance floor.

Then student bowed deeply in near perfect form. 

The stammered half-apology seemed to be enough to placate Ozpin for now. Ozpin rarely said anything after Qrow swore, or said something impolite; the headmaster would simply turn a disapproving stare onto the student that made Qrow want to apologize, or at least grudgingly sigh and do as he was asked.

Ozpin now watched Qrow's bow with analyzing eyes, giving a brief nod of approval.

"Excellent," he said. "Although, Mr. Branwen, your form will only be of merit if you do not obscure it through inelegant language. We will have to break you of that habit. I imagine it will be quite the undertaking." 

"My mouth stays as dirty as I like it," Qrow said to the floor. "They don't have to listen to me to be jealous of my sweet dance moves." 

Feeling the scrutiny of the headmaster's gaze roaming over his body, Qrow fought to remain still, his eyes roaming for further distraction. 

"Can I stand up already? My eyes are-" _at crotch level of the headmaster._

He straightened abruptly, without permission. 

"You need only hold the bow for a few seconds," Ozpin remarked, amused by Qrow's mild rebellions. "Then onto the dance itself. As the lead, you'll extend your hand, which I will accept. Then place your hand around your partner's waist, resting just above the small of the back, while my hand rests on your shoulder. Shall I demonstrate?" 

Qrow extended his hand palm up with grace resembling a fist bump request. 

Ozpin regarded the extended fist with an almost disbelieving expression, the criticism in the lines of his mouth relaxing as he reached for Qrow's hand, fingers prying open the student's hand open.

"Like _this,_ if you please," the headmaster said, placing Qrow's palm against his own. "One does not offer a fist to a lady, nor a high-five, or whatever else your classmates are doing these days by way of casual greetings."

Qrow ignored the electric tingles the soft brushes on his palm created, squashing them with witty commentary. "Then how are they supposed to know you _really_ like them? Not everyone knows your ancient ways to say 'Sup.'" 

“I can assure you I have never once offered a greeting of _’sup,’”_ Ozpin remarked dryly. 

“That’s kinda the point, Professor.”

Qrow relaxed his hand. Currents subsiding, the boy stepped into the headmaster's space, claiming him about the waist into an embrace with not even a breath between them. 

"Like this?" he asked.

"Not quite so tightly," Ozpin said, with a quiet clearing of his throat. 

“Oh. Sorry.”

"Assuming your partner has accepted your invitation to dance, you needn't hold onto her as though she may attempt an escape."

He took half a step back when Qrow loosened his hold, placing his hand on the student's shoulder. "This is about how much space you should leave between you and your partner. Unless," Ozpin added with a quiet chuckle, "you're performing the Mistral Tango." 

"What's that?" 

Another clearing of the headmaster's throat, this time more deliberate. 

"A dance not often performed," Ozpin said, “at least not at school events. Now, shall we run through the steps of the waltz?" 

"So if I learn it I'll impress the ladies?" 

"The _waltz,_ yes," Ozpin emphasized. 

"Tango sucks. Got it. What do I do?" 

With all the patience of a seasoned teacher, Ozpin carefully laid out each of the steps, prodding Qrow's movement with the tip of his shoe, or the gentle push against his shoulder, despite the student being the lead.

“Listen to the tempo of the song. A waltz has three counts, _one_ two three, _one_ two three..."

With exaggerated movement, Ozpin nudged Qrow into the steps. After running through them several times, the headmaster paused. 

"Good. Very good. Now, if you don't mind repeating them, but some distance away..." 

He disengaged himself from the student's hands, taking a few steps to Qrow's side. "Repeat them as though we were immediately before one another. This will help me check your form."

Qrow fought the blush back to a light pink. The actual motions going well, the count familiar, the boy fought making the mental connection to the similar dance in his animalistic form.

He was at least thankful for the breathing air as he was released, free to spread his wings so to speak. A deep breath and he bowed in time to the music. This time, the gesture was all the more personal. Somehow it was worse alone. 

This was not going to go well. 

The pink in his cheeks darkened ever so slightly.

"Don't overthink it," the headmaster said. "Dancing is about reading your partner and reacting - not far from how you would in a battle. If you know the basic moves and trust your partner, it comes easily. Now, let's begin from the top and then run through the steps once more, if you please."

Qrow couldn't help the side glare he shot the professor. It was bad enough the dance began the same as a crow's mating dance. The fact that Qrow had to perform it repeatedly for the headmaster's observance, judgment, and ultimate acceptance made it worse. 

_Trust your partner,_ he had said. _Not far from a battle,_ he had said. 

Yeah, well, mating season was a battle and you only won if you were trusted and picked.

_Don’t think about that._

As if someone like _Professor Ozpin_ was even his type.

Qrow groaned internally. Gritting his teeth, the boy fought the glare and blush, opting instead for a blank canvas. A quick huff and he bent at the waist, straightened, and began the motions, Ozpin taking the student’s offered hand.

If Raven ever found out about this, Qrow was dead.

The headmaster’s words remained encouraging despite the sometimes awkward shuffling of the student's feet, Ozpin's flinch almost imperceptible when Qrow stepped on him the third time. 

"Better," Ozpin remarked after Qrow began to lead on his own, after several minutes of counting steps. "You're a fast leaner at this as well, as I suspected. Although perhaps we will reserve the more complicated steps for next time. Best to thoroughly understand the basics before further challenges." 

Qrow nodded in agreement. "A girl told me I was the best horizontal tango she ever had, but I didn't even know I was doing steps to anything. Guess I'll be a natural when we get to that one. When did you say that one is 'appropriate' again?" 

Ozpin froze in Qrow's arms, letting out a small noise of surprise when the student stepped on him again. 

"No, that was my fault," the headmaster said, releasing Qrow's hands to inspect the damage to his shoes. "I lost the count for a moment.” He paused, as though composing distracted thoughts.

Qrow's eyebrows shot up, eyes sharpening as he recognized the headmaster's sudden discomfort. The boy's head cocked to one side in curiosity. "What makes the tango so bad?" he prodded, barely concealing the beginnings of a smirk. 

"It's rather advanced for your age, Mr. Branwen," Ozpin said, "considering how many times you've stepped on me during a simple box waltz." 

"You're the one that said I was a quick learner. That can't be your reason," Qrow said, positively grinning now as he put the pieces in place. "Would I get kicked out the school dance if I did it here?" 

Professor Ozpin gave a short sigh, a small indication of Qrow's ability to shake the unshakable.

"The point, Mr. Branwen, is that it isn't on your lesson plan," he said. 

“Are you blushing?”

Ozpin turned surprised eyes on his student.

_Definitely blushing._

Ozpin’s pale complexion did nothing to hide the faint streaks of pink forming below his glasses.

Qrow didn’t know why, but he was amused as hell.

Ozpin definitely wasn’t.

"Your professors say you have more curiosity than they can oblige,” he said, his voice taking an edge, “and as a result your focus is lacking. I would have to agree. Now, will you grant me the favor of beginning from the start of the waltz, all the way through?" 

The student let the topic drop - but his cocky grin remained throughout the waltz. Now the dance lesson seemed _fun,_ Qrow finding some manner in which the collected headmaster could be shaken. He didn’t yet know how to use this information, but he knew it was valuable nonetheless. 

That was enough to drop his petulance and follow direction. 

This time.

Closing the dance with skill that seemed like a month, not a day, he managed to complete the motions without stepping on the headmaster once.

 _“There. Focus.”_

Ozpin regarded him carefully.

So Qrow wasn’t forgiven yet. He’d live with it.

“You’ve been holding back on me,” the headmaster remarked.

“Maybe. If I say yes, teach me the tango sometime so I can stop being so curious." 

"You gain confidence rather quickly," Ozpin mused, in a tone meant as a note to himself, uncertain the fact was a beneficial one. "At the beginning of the lesson, you were hesitant - almost timid. Now that you believe yourself in a position of advantage, you're bordering upon predatory."

Qrow gave a careless shrug.

The headmaster studied Qrow for another moment of consideration. "Devious behavior for your professors to suffer, but a valuable one for a huntsman."

The young man smirked at the perceived compliment. "You gotta hunt to be a huntsman." 

“I think I’m rather out of your league to be considered prey, Mr. Branwen.”

“I guess we’ll see then, Professor.”

A moment of silence fell, the two both too stubborn to break eye contact first.

"Ah, well," Ozpin said at length. "The key to teaching is simply finding the methods that best fit the huntsman. I think - to the chagrin of your teachers - that we will allow you to keep that predatory nature.”

"You just want to see how much I can piss them off and get away with it,” Qrow chuckled before aggressively securing his arm around Ozpin's waist, pulling him into position once more. "Besides what's wrong with being a little assertive? Ladies usually love that kinda thing. Last round," he ordered. “Let me show you what I can do.”

"You run a fine line between _assertive_ and pushing personal boundaries," the headmaster said dryly, nevertheless placing his hand back in Qrow's, the other resting upon the student's shoulder. "But very well. Do _try_ to impress me."

"I already do," he replied with certainty before - true to Ozpin's analysis - he began the dance with intense focus, wholly contradicting his earlier flighty attention. Qrow moved with purpose now, his steps smooth, guiding Ozpin about the center of office, glancing up to see if he could hazard more translations of the headmaster’s unreadable expressions.

Ozpin said nothing at the dance's conclusion, merely giving Qrow a long, analytical stare, as though deciding whether to commend his cleverness or rebuke his attitude. He released the student and offered another short bow, his expression softening into something that was not quite a smile.

_He’s impressed._

For some reason, the fact made Qrow proud.

"You did very well," the headmaster said at last. "I suspect you will do Beacon proud at the end of the year dance."

"It's not Beacon I'm out to impress," the student muttered under his breath.

“Oh?” Ozpin said, catching the words. “Someone specific in mind?”

“Why even teach me this stuff?” Qrow asked, pretending not to hear the question. “I don’t see you hauling other students up here for one-on-one lessons.”

“No, of course not,” Ozpin said, returning to his desk to tap at his floating monitors. “You’re an exception. I have…special plans for Team STRQ.”

Qrow opened his mouth to ask for details - _special plans_ from the headmaster sounded unpleasant – when Ozpin’s scroll trilled in his pocket. 

“Yes?” he asked, holding up a finger for Qrow to hold his thought. “Ferra, good aftern – I beg your pardon?”

Ozpin’s eyes shot back up to Qrow. The student returned the stare evenly.

He had a feeling he knew what this was about.

“Yale Remington, from Team ROYL,” the headmaster mused, repeating the information as though for Qrow. “I see. He claims that Mr. Branwen…oh, I see. How…creative.”

A moment’s pause, and even Qrow could hear the rise of Ferra’s voice. Ozpin held the scroll away from his ear.

“Yes, of course I agree it’s against school policy, Ferra, but you have to admit it is a clever way to exact revenge without physical violence – no? Ah, well, agree to disagree. Yes, of course. Thank you. And Ferra? Do send a few photos. I’ll need to properly make judgment based on the…evidence.”

Ozpin disconnected and looked at Qrow, who had remained in place during the conversation. 

“Mr. Branwen,” the headmaster said, his voice _almost stern_. “Did you… _tar and feather_ a member of Team ROYL?”

Qrow hesitated. He couldn’t be sure, but he wagered Ozpin was more amused than angry, and that lying now would be the wrong move. Best to just lay his cards on the table and own it.

“It was just super glue,” Qrow said. 

“I see.” Ozpin’s face remained unreadable.

“And the feathers were hot pink.”

_There._

A twitch of Ozpin’s lips, almost hidden as he adjusted his glasses. 

“Mr. Remington has informed Professor Agrios that he returned from a shower to find his towel missing, and, when he attempted to sneak back into the locker room unnoticed, set off a series of traps that resulted in him looking like – and I quote – a very unfortunate flamingo.”

Ozpin’s scroll pinged and he picked it up, tapping the screen. “And here are the pictures – oh dear.”

The headmaster pressed his lips together; a subtle expression otherwise, but Qrow was watching him closely enough to know Ozpin’s amusement now. After all, if the headmaster found the prank funny, it was unlikely Qrow would be expelled. 

“I don’t like flamingos,” Qrow said. “And I don’t like Remington.”

“As curious as I am to hear of why you so strongly dislike flamingos, I _do_ know that you and Team ROYL have had your share of…disagreements. But Qrow…”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. 

The headmaster hadn’t called him by his first name before.

“This manner of prank will only make Team ROYL seek retaliation.”

“You said it’s better than me fighting them.”

“It is – for now. But suppose Team ROYL expects to start a fight after this?”

“Then I’ll kick their asses.”

Ozpin sighed. 

“All right, fine. I’ll avoid them. No more pranks.”

The headmaster eyed the student. “Do you mean that?”

“I mean I won’t get caught next time,” Qrow announced boldly.

Ozpin tapped his scroll lightly on his desk.

“Hypothetically, it would be best not to let Professor Agrios _nor_ Team ROYL know you’re the mastermind,” he said.

Qrow raised an eyebrow. Was the headmaster giving him _permission_?

“Hypothetically,” the student said.

And Ozpin smiled.

_I’m not expelled yet._

Maybe, Qrow thought, the old man wasn’t so bad after all.

“Detention,” Ozpin said, and Qrow took back the kind words in his head. “At least until you clean up the locker room. And your other lessons will resume as usual next week.” He checked the watch on his wrist, gold gears ticking like a miniature of his ceiling. “You should be off now, if you wish to avoid Professor Agrios. I imagine that could make for an unpleasant elevator ride.”

Qrow stood immediately, taking the headmaster at his word. Ozpin still confused him; Qrow was in trouble but not, lectured but encouraged, called a predator but uncorrected. Not to mention Team STRQ’s _special plans_...

Ozpin was playing at something. 

Qrow didn’t get it.

Not yet.


	6. In which Qrow still doesn't understand teenage social etiquette despite his best attempts

Raven Branwen stepped off the elevator into the headmaster’s office, lifting her head as she surveyed the room. She didn’t wear the sword usually at her hip but still walked as though feeling the weight of its ghost, fingers flexing as though to reach for the invisible hilt.

She didn’t look comfortable.

Professor Ozpin stood at her arrival, motioning her forward. 

“Good afternoon, Miss Branwen. Thank you for coming.”

“Did I have a choice?” she asked. Her voice carried no hint of hostility, just a flat note of reality.

Putting her at ease for this conversation would be…challenging.

“Do you drink coffee?” the headmaster asked, choosing to ignore the rhetorical question. 

“No.”

“Ah. Neither does your brother. He did appreciate tea, however.”

Her face changed at that remark, but only for a moment, as though she recalled Qrow being sent to the headmaster’s office time and again.

“I’m fine,” Raven said.

“Very well. Please, sit, make yourself at home. I don’t intend on taking up much of your time.”

Raven took a careful seat across from Professor Ozpin, eyes meeting his evenly.

Not many students made a habit of that.

Ozpin sipped his coffee and reached for cautious words. There was little point to cushioning the reason for her coming here; she wouldn’t appreciate it and Ozpin would lose what little leverage he had.

“Miss Branwen, I asked your brother this question, but I imagine your answer will be very different. Why did you come to my school?”

Raven gave a shrug, a tiny movement of one shoulder. “I have things to protect.”

“Your family.”

“Qrow can take care of himself. And if he can’t…” Another small shrug, her face unreadable.

“I meant your tribe.”

Ozpin let the strike fall on its own, Raven’s eyes darting up, widening. He gave her the moment to recover, and she did, her expression smoothing back into indifference.

“It’s not _my_ tribe.”

“Yet,” Ozpin said evenly.

Raven stared, lips firmly shut.

“You aren’t required to remain with them,” Ozpin said. “As a Huntress, you have other options.”

The silence swallowed the headmaster’s words, Raven staring as though she did not understand him, nor had any desire to.

“As I understand, Miss Branwen, your mother is the current leader of the Branwen tribe, and she intends to lend that position to you in time. I merely ask that you consider whether that is truly in your best interests, or in the interests of those you care about.”

“Is that all?” Raven asked.

Ozpin sighed. It was, as he had predicted, like speaking to a particularly stubborn brick wall. He had said so little, and yet it was evident that Raven would give his opinion no mind. She had heard all of this before, and she dismissed it then and now.

“Yes, Miss Branwen. That is all.”

Raven rose from the chair, smoothing her skirt. 

Then she paused.

Ozpin’s eyes flickered up.

“Did you tell my brother these things?”

Ozpin cocked his head, studying her stone-like expression.

“Which of them?”

“Did you tell Qrow that he had _options?”_

“I merely asked why he came to Beacon.”

_“Good.”_

The syllable came out almost harshly.

“Good afternoon, Miss Branwen.”

“Good afternoon, Professor,” she recited, unfeeling. 

The elevator’s cheerful ping echoed after her departure.

_Did you tell Qrow he had options?_

Ozpin swirled the coffee in his mug, watching the elevator descend. Raven would make a formidable Huntress, and later a formidable bandit leader with formal combat training. Perhaps now, with her arrival from Mistral so fresh, she could not see beyond the walls of her upbringing. Perhaps in time…

Ozpin tapped a finger absently on his desk.

Of one thing he was absolutely certain: Raven had never offered Qrow lifescript options, and she was worried Ozpin would.

She knew Qrow would take them.

***

Qrow was an outsider. In the tribe. In school. In life. 

His curse demanded a solitary life.

He didn’t entirely mind. Qrow liked his own company. He was good people. Certainly more entertaining than most of the masses with their social boundaries he never seemed to grasp.

And he gave himself excellent advice.

Go train? Sure. On campus? Nah.

Go for a flight to burn off some steam? Absolutely.

Conveniently forget about school rules? Fuck yes.

_Missed dinner again, shit._

Okay so dinner may have been part of the academy’s schedule Qrow didn’t want to follow, but hey, he was crafty. And he was an excellent problem solver. 

A shake of his head and the bird knew where he would find a proper meal. 

Time to raid the kitchen. 

He foresaw many nights of kitchen raiding in the future due to his unique extracurricular activities. Thankfully maneuvering unseen into the kitchen was a breeze in his current, more compact state.

The crow landed lithely on the butcher's block and surveyed his options. A quick whiff of the air told him someone had forgotten to properly stash some tasty pastry powders. Never a slow one to inspect the unknown, Qrow plopped to the floor and hopped over for a closer look. And taste. 

_Well if you insist. So nice of you to leave it out..._

Without a moment's hesitation, bit into the side of the bag and pulled. The bag gave way much sooner than expected causing the contents to come flooding out full force at the tiny creature. A startled squawk was all that could escape the bird before being buried beneath the fine powder. Poking his head out quickly and shaking it off, Qrow glared in momentary defeat before deciding revenge against the substance would best be served now. 

In his stomach.

He helped himself until he could barely move. The powder was certainly both addicting and filling. As food coma set in, Qrow decided it was time for his nesting. The cooling months of the year always caused him to migrate to his favorite spot - which this year was the floating gears in the Headmaster's office.

The now considerably heavier bird somewhat hopped, somewhat fell out of the powder mountain. He attempted a messy mix of moderately successful flight and much stumbling to his preferred destination.

The clocktower seemed to soar even higher now than usual, as though Qrow’s gravity grew with the size of his stomach. He hesitated, debating the strength of his wings and his current weight.

When Ozpin walked by, cane tapping with each step, Qrow had his answer.

Deciding to ride the elevator out of necessity more than anything, the headmaster himself was Qrow’s ticket up to the identity-protected office. It was almost too easy, the crow hopping after Ozpin, the headmaster’s attention on his scroll, utterly oblivious to his surroundings, or the curious bird that dogged his feet. 

The elevator opened and Qrow slipped in, scurrying behind Ozpin’s heels as the headmaster absently pressed the top button, the green light above flickering on. Qrow held his breath when Ozpin placed his cane beneath one arm, but he had no cause to be nervous; the headmaster typed rapidly on his scroll, still unaware of the creature below him.

The bird sighed in relief once the doors opened to the grand office. Ozpin stepped off and Qrow scurried around him, hiding behind one of the pillars until he could find the energy to disappear amongst the gears again.

He did not have to wait long for the opportunity; Ozpin’s scroll trilled and the headmaster sighed shortly.

“Yes, Ferra?” His voice returned to his usual composure, the irritation in that sigh already concealed. “I’ll be down right away.”

The elevator pinged and Qrow listened for the doors to whisper shut, leaving him alone in the office.

Hopping forth as long as possible to save his wing strength for one last burst of energetic flight up to the gears, the teen shook his tail feathers in preparation glaring his goal into submission. 

_I can do this!_

After the first two attempts apparently. Still, upon success the bird cawed in victory and settled into his chosen nesting spot... all the while unaware of the trail of tiny powdered prints his gluttonous cravings had left in his wake. 

He heard the elevator ping again without a care, settling more deeply into his warm nest, listening to the tap of Ozpin’s oxfords on the polished floor, sleepy and smug about his sneaking abilities. 

_I’ve fooled even the headmaster,_ he thought, drifting off to sleep.

Below him, Ozpin paused in the middle of his office, studying the tiny white bird prints on the tile, the scattered powder where it appeared a bird had taken off into flight – or exploded. The headmaster’s eyes wandered to his chair, his desk – both untouched – and to the open window on the opposite side of the office. Qrow was already asleep as Ozpin peered out the window, down and then up at the empty gray sky, pulling the glass closed with narrowed eyes. He remained there for another moment, pondering the meaning of the tracks he found, before shaking his head and returning to his desk.

His eyes never wandered to the gears that ticked slowly above him.

***

"Qrow!" 

The familiar sing-song voice rang out above the crowd of mulling students. Qrow Branwen turned automatically, rebuking himself too late to not look too eager, too happy.

Today Beacon Academy was preparing for collection samples from the wild Emerald Forest beyond the safety barriers.

Qrow was very familiar with this wilderness, as well as most others from his youth. He, unlike the majority of the Academy's attendees, was raised in the wild, among the Grimm in an accomplished group of nomads. 

Nomads. 

_Bandits._

Same thing.

But being raised with the constant threat of being torn to shreds just for walking down the road lent a Qrow a sense of ease in dangerous situations that students raised in captivity couldn't fathom.

One reason he was better than them.

They said he oozed danger. He called it confidence. 

Regardless, everyone agreed he was excellent at getting the job done…if it involved violence.

And yet Sapphire skipped over to her classmate, a smile on her face.

"Hi, Qrow..." She shifted nervously from foot to foot.

He eyed her curiously. He liked her; she clearly believed the academy rumors about Qrow’s tendency toward violence, and yet sought him out despite it. She had balls.

"Sapphire," he said with a half nod and hidden smile.

"Today's lesson is outside the walls..." she began.

The pause grew long.

"Yeah? And?”

"There was a Grimm attack last night...a big one. Near where we’re going. All the other students are talking about it…”

_Ah. She was scared._

"You know, the Grimm can smell fear. You should be more confident in your abilities."

The girl's eyes widened in some expression of emotion Qrow couldn't decipher.

_More fear? Offense? Confusion? Girl?_

_Whatever._

"If you panic, you die."

Now it looked like she was ready to panic.

"Don't sound so dramatic, Qrow.” Summer appeared, white cloak aflutter as she put an arm around the other girl’s shoulders. “You'll be fine, Sapphire. We will be in a more than capable group, not to mention Qrow said Professor Ozpin took care of the Grimm last night."

"He did."

"See?" Summer offered a sweet smile, all comfort, all everything Qrow couldn’t understand. "Besides, Qrow will protect you."

Qrow eyed Summer suspiciously, critical of her motives.

"You will?" Sapphire's voice was now near the pitch of a squeak of a mouse.

Qrow sighed, then nodded. "Sure. Just don't expect me to be glued to your side. I keep my distance."

"Th-thank you..." she said with a polite bow before rushing off, suddenly eager to find her team.

The two watched her disappear out of earshot before Qrow turned to his partner with an annoyed glare.

"Mind telling me why you offered my services without asking first?"

Summer shrugged with a smile. "She was nervous. She obviously thinks highly of your battle skills. She probably didn't want to die, and oh I don't know...I thought you might care if she did?"

"I don't see why that's my problem."

"Qrow!"

"What? I'm not a Huntsman yet. She didn't hire me."

"That isn't the point. We are in _training_ to become Huntsmen. Start acting like one. That involves caring whether your target lives or dies."

"Aren't you usually supposed to kill a target?"

"Qrow."

"Yes?"

"Stop playing dumb."

"But it's so easy."

"Too easy, I’d say."

Qrow made an indignant noise.

"She likes you."

"What?” Qrow shot her a sharp look, eyebrows knitting.

"Oh please, you can't be that clueless."

Silence stretched on before Qrow narrowed his gaze to a cynical glare. "You're fucking with me."

"Oh..." Summer said softly, her smile melting away to a look of pitied concern. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know _what?”_

"Qrow, she goes out of her way to talk to you. She goes to you for help. She actively spends time with you. You make each other laugh and try to cheer each other up. Qrow, she _likes_ you."

"Okay. Sure. I like her too then."

"No." Summer shook her head. "She _likes you._ Like a boyfriend-girlfriend thing."

Qrow blinked once. 

Twice. 

Eighty million more times before he lost count.

"Can't she just want some action, and go?" 

Qrow wasn’t the sentimental attachment type. He didn’t like the idea of someone sticking around. He didn't want someone to get hurt. He just wanted what he knew - the life of a bandit - take what you need, steal what you want, then leave.

It was better that way.

"You're hopeless," Summer said flatly.

"I'm no romantic, but I'm good in bed. That's more important."

Summer heaved a heavy sigh. "If you say so. But, Qrow?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Someday that might change. Someday you might want someone with you. More than one night."

"Like hell I-"

"And when you do, promise me you won't push that person away."

Qrow's face screwed up as if he were looking at the most disgusting entrails of a vile creature.

"Promise."

"Ugh. Fine. I promise."

"What?"

"Damn it. I...” he paused, sighing, in search of words both noncommittal, yet poised enough to satisfy his demanding teammate. “I promise _if_ I ever decide I want more than a quick fuck, I'll...”

_I’ll what? Take her on a dumpster diving buffet?_

Qrow shook his head fully recognizing the failure of his own thoughts in the social realm. 

He was a bandit after all.

“What the fuck do you do?" he relented. “With people you like?”

"Take them on a date. Invite them to a dance."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," she said, wiggling merrily at the idea of Qrow taking a date to a dance.

"Tch. Fine. I'll invite someone to a dance if I'm interested in them. Satisfied enough to leave me alone now?"

"Yep!" Summer sang out, skipping off into the heard of students preparing for the mission.

Qrow sighed anew, irritated for reasons he couldn’t yet pinpoint.

***

True to his word, Qrow shadowed Sapphire stepping in only when she was about to fall victim of a prank by her teammate. Sure, it wasn't a Grimm, but Qrow knew damn well his ass would still be chewed out by Summer if he didn't step in. She was such a damn romantic. 

Nauseatingly so.

And Team CPRS was proving to be the same bag of dicks as Team ROYL.

"Thank you, Qrow..." Sapphire said trying to wipe the tree sap from Qrow's sleeve. In his gallant effort to save her from being pegged in the face with the sap, his arm became drenched in the process.

"It's fine. Grimm like this stuff. Don't need you covered in it.” Qrow shot a glare at her teammate. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Cobalt. Cobalt Bronson.”

“Royale’s friend.” Qrow almost spat the words. “She’s on your fucking _team,_ Bronson.”

"You...you really saved me then," she said half in disbelief at the troubled young man's selflessness.

"Sure? It is just tree sap."

"And Grimm bait," Bronson grinned.

Qrow rotated his neck, enjoying the popping release of tension before turning to face the boy. "So?"

"So they're gonna be all over you soon," Bronson said mockingly sniffing the air around Qrow.

"Then I won't be bored."

"Hah," was all the boy said before letting loose the last of his ammo onto Qrow's chest.

Qrow allowed the target to hit, wondering what the hell the point of this was. "You done?" he asked the cackling form.

Bronson straightened abruptly, obviously agitated his target was not in distress.

"Stop it!" Sapphire yelled from behind Qrow.

"It's fine. He's out of ammo anyway."

"Bu-but now they are going to come?" her voice quivered as she spoke.

"No. Ozpin took care of them all, remember?"

Slowly, Qrow felt the release of breath from the small form behind him.

"Thank you..."

"Yea. Just go join the class. You have your sample?"

She nodded then gathered her things to go leaving the two men alone.

"You wanna fight?" the boy challenged, circling around Qrow.

"Yes, but you'd lose too fast it wouldn't be worth the trouble.”

"Tch. So fucking cocky."

"Compared to you, yes-" Qrow cut himself off when Bronson completely disappeared from view. 

He tensed for battle but it did not come, his muscles relaxing slowly. He glanced back to where Sapphire had escaped - certain she was safe near other students – before creeping up to investigate the disappearing student.

For once, Qrow could not be happier either his bad luck or the kid's own ignorance of his surroundings kicked in at the perfect moment.

Cobalt Bronson found himself encased in a heavy, metal netting suspended from a large, twisted tree – a Grimm trap Ozpin’s faculty left after the previous attack.

Qrow burst into laughter. "You know, they told us to stay on the trail for a reason. 

"SHUT UP! And get me out!"

"No."

"Get me out!"

"Nope."

_"Branwen!"_

"You know, it's kinda nice out today," Qrow said, stretching out on the ground beneath the student dangling from the tree.

"You're going to pay for this!"

"For relaxing on a nice day? Usually that’s free.”

Cobalt spat at him, missing wildly as the netting spun about the tree branch.

"Looks like it's starting to rain."

"Shut up!"

"You know, maybe they had a point - I really am covered in Grimm bait. And you're stuck in a tree. I wonder how long before one comes by? I'd be curious to see which one of us he goes after first..."

The question earned silence from his opponent.

With a smirk, Qrow rose knowing he had won the battle.

Grabbing the kid by the scruff of the collar, he stopped the twirling to come nose-to-nose for a warning. "Lay off Sapphire."

Glaring, the kid nodded, then Qrow cut him down, enjoying watching him fall to the ground head first.

“That goes for you _and_ Team ROYL. Otherwise the Grimm will be the least of your worries.”

Qrow turned on his heel without waiting for a response. He was confident now that he didn’t need one.

***

Upon returning from the class outing, Qrow was instructed to change his out of his stained uniform.

He did so, still thoroughly amused by the side glares and soft whispers Bronson and his bff Royale shot at glare the whole rest of the day. 

It was flattering – always being on someone’s mind. 

Hell, multiple minds.

Qrow was a regular Casanova.

Whatever that meant.

High from the trip as well as the results, Qrow managed one of the best twenty-four hours he’d had since joining the academy.

He replayed the morning’s events in his mind on repeat.

Field assignments were something Qrow always looked forward to. Even if you end up covered in Grimm bait and someone locked up in a Grimm trap. The freedom of outside was too alluring to dampen almost anything thrown at the student.

Bonus when it’s your enemy stuck in a trap.

Classwork, on the other hand, sucked. Completely and wholly. There was no upside. Locked indoors, confined to a desk, hunched over staring at shapes on a paper that don't move.

_Fuck that._

By noon the next day, twenty minutes into his research course to be exact, his previous high had ebbed and he was succumbing to boredom. Fingers twirled, yanking at his hair, feet shuffled back and forth on the floor, eyes darted to the window debating jumping for freedom.

_Fuck this._

Qrow growled at the research materials in front of him as if threatening them to be more entertaining - or else!

"Excuse me, Qrow?"

The soft-spoken female voice startled him out of his sadistic threats.

"Sapphire," he said, the edges of his frustration melting.

"I wanted to thank you again. For yesterday. I don't know what I would have done if I were...in your position. Being bait..." she shivered at the thought, then took a deep breath as if grounding herself.

For being so knowledgeable about fighting, restraints, and tricky situations, Qrow had no idea what to do next as arms locked around him in a tight embrace. Instinctually, Qrow wriggled free of his confinement before any distress could set in.

"Oh..." Sapphire began. "I'm so sorry."

Qrow remained silent.

"I should have asked before-..." she cut herself off, her face flushing red before she turned away.

_First she assaults me, then she apologizes?_

Qrow's eyebrows shot up. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he guessed correctly. "I'm not mad, I just didn't know what to do. People don't do that to me."

"O-oh..." the pity came through so strong even Qrow noticed it. 

And it made his stomach turn. 

"I just want to say thank you," she concluded.

"You did." Qrow said shortly not wanting to have to deal with pity a second longer than necessary.

He wasn’t weak. He didn’t need pity. And if she thought he did need it-

"R-right..." she nodded looking around nervously.

_Was she scared now? Did he care?_

He was annoyed. And offended.

Offended.

Qrow didn’t get offended easily.

That would involve caring-

Not that he did.

_…Shit._

Locked in his mental analysis, crimson daggers searched sapphire orbs for unspoken answers, his gaze unwittingly shifting to a glare. The silence stretched on painfully long before Sapphire couldn’t take the scrutiny any longer. A soft whimper of another apology, a semblance of a bow, a swift scurry off.

For once, Qrow was more motivated to focus on the words in front of him than the distractions surrounding him.

***

Two full days of self-analysis solved nothing.

However, two full days of lecturing from both Summer and Taiyang nearly drove Qrow to madness. 

Finally, he caved.

Finally he agreed to stupid terms: show her you care! show her you don't want her dead! show her you aren't angry with her! show her you like her company!

Qrow made every indignant noise he knew until he ran out. And still they pestered. He briefly wondered if recording the protests and playing it back on repeat would get them to relent.

He doubted it.

And so he succumbed, palming the tiny shiny gift he had plucked on a night raid from a mountainside. It wasn't much, but it was something he had found himself inexplicably drawn to, so maybe she would be too.

A brief sigh, a brief wish he was anywhere but here, and Qrow strode over to his classmate.

"Here," he said extending his hand palm down at Sapphire.

Her blue eyes sparkled in the light, shifting from Qrow to his hand, and back again.

A painfully long silence stretched out before she realized he had something to give to her. Hands cupped beneath Qrow's the tiny silver speck plopped into place.

"Oh my! Thank you, Qrow!" she beamed. "It's beautiful... is it?"

"Is it?" Qrow pressed.

He watched as she remained silent inspecting the piece, her joy fading.

"Qrow... it's nickel."

"And? It's shiny."

"I'm allergic..."

"To shiny?"

"To nickel. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to keep this," she said returning the gift to Qrow's hand, itching her palm on the return.

"Oh." Qrow felt an odd knob in his stomach he hadn't felt before. Pocketing the gift, he rotated on his heel and left without further word.

***

Professor Ozpin stifled a yawn into his mug, realizing too late his had finished his coffee, replacing the mug on the desktop with a sigh. He needed another cup but didn’t _need_ it, as Ferra would say, and yet he rose regardless.

Not quite noon, and on his sixth cup of coffee. 

He decided he would tell Ferra it was his third. She wouldn’t believe him, but she wouldn’t question it either.

The dark liquid splashed against the white mug as the elevator pinged. He sipped as he returned to his desk, pressing the keypad to allow Ferra up. His coffee machine was excellent but turned out coffee too hot, but Ozpin was unconcerned if he burned his tongue now, already wounded from his first cup at six o’clock that morning. 

What was one more?

The headmaster collapsed into his chair, pushing silver hair from his eyes – when had it grown so long again? – pulling up the last faculty meeting minutes to confirm with his assistant. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would find time for a proper lunch today.

The elevator pinged cheerfully upon his arrival.

“I think it’s best we go with Professor Peach’s suggestions after all,” he said, tapping at his monitor, his voice trailing as a figure materialized behind the green glow. Slowly, his hands fell to his desktop, leaning back into his chair.

“Mr. Branwen,” the headmaster said. “Good afternoon.”

Qrow didn’t reply at first, hesitating as though he realized he had interrupted Ozpin’s expected meeting.

“Hey,” he said dully.

Ozpin paused, studying the boy’s downward expression. Then he reached up, minimizing the projected monitors. 

“I confess I was not expecting you,” the headmaster said. “May I ask why you were sent here today?”

“I wasn’t sent. I just…came.”

Ozpin blinked, his surprised fading quickly. “I see. If you don’t mind, may I ask why?”

The boy shrugged, falling gracelessly into the chair opposite the headmaster. 

“I didn’t really want to talk to anyone.”

Ozpin made a neutral hum, wondering if indeed Qrow considered his headmaster a real person, or simply a sounding board out of habit.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

Ozpin nodded once. “Then you are welcome to remain here, if you do not mind my working.”

“Do what you gotta do, Professor.”

“Appreciated. Would you care for some coffee?”

Qrow screwed up his face and Ozpin could not restrain a quiet chuckle. 

“Of course not. My mistake.”

Qrow remained in place, fidgeting in his chair as Ozpin replied to emails or skimmed reports, sometimes watching idly, sometimes allowing his eyes to wander to the window, or the gears above, or to settle on nothing whatsoever. After some time (half a cup of coffee, Ozpin measured), Qrow dug into a pocket and placed a small shiny something on the glass desktop.

Ozpin’s hands paused over his monitors, eyes flickering down.

“What is that?”

“Nothing important,” Qrow said, shrugging. “Just a bit of metal I found.”

He hesitated again.

_”Nickel.”_

Ozpin leaned forward, picking up the bit of metal, holding it between two fingers as he examined it.

“It’s quite pretty, for scrap.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t you think so? You picked it up. It must have caught your eye.”

“I guess.”

Ozpin let the piece fall in his palm, rotating it to catch the afternoon sun. “May I keep it?”

Qrow started, looking at the headmaster as though he had said something particularly mad. It was an expression Ozpin had seen on other faces before this.

“Why?” he asked.

Professor Ozpin shrugged. “Because it is pretty.”

“It’s scrap. Trash.”

“One man’s trash,” Ozpin said simply. 

“I…I guess. If you really want it.”

“I really do.”

“…You’re just going to throw it out when I leave, aren’t you?”

Ozpin looked up, this surprise more difficult to mask. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because. It’s just a damaged piece of junk. Any normal person would throw it out.”

“Damaged? Perhaps. Junk? That is rather up to the eye of the beholder, is it not? And I do not consider it junk.”

Qrow paused, considering the headmaster’s determination. “You’re not allergic?” he asked at last. 

Surely he couldn’t possibly want a tiny trinket simply because…

“I don’t know,” Ozpin said honestly. “But even were I, it would not stop me from admiring it. Besides,” he added with a chuckle, “I have suffered worse from pretty things than a simple skin rash. I would prefer to take my chances.”

“Suit yourself,” Qrow said, his gaze skeptical. 

The boy had heard rumors of the headmaster’s eccentricities, and now he’s seen them first hand. 

They weren’t wrong.

“Thank you,” Ozpin said, closing his fingers around the scrap, the shiny bit disappearing into a coat pocket. “Then, if you still prefer not to talk about whatever is bothering you, what would you say to lunch?”

Qrow gave the headmaster a startled look as Ozpin rose from his desk, cane already in hand. “I thought you had a meeting?”

“I can reschedule.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “Agrios is gonna have your balls,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. Lunch, huh? With the headmaster. What would _that_ do for my reputation?”

“Important detail, no doubt,” Professor Ozpin said, with a half-smile. “Something off campus, then? There is a delightful little coffee shop in Vale I frequent. We can take an airship and be back before your afternoon classes.”

“You…you’re serious?”

“I have to keep my pilots occupied, Mr. Branwen,” Ozpin said, striding past him, toward the elevator. “And the café makes an excellent little turkey and brie croissant that pairs exquisitely with a Mistral blend of white wine – oh, but of course, you mustn’t drink before class – are you eighteen just yet? Perhaps you shouldn’t be drinking at all, then –“

Qrow listened to the headmaster ramble, somehow professional and casual simultaneously, the student following instinctively, thinking – not for the first time – that he was currently enrolled in a combat school run by an absolute madman.

Qrow was no longer sure it bothered him.


	7. In which Team STRQ shadows a real Huntsman

"Who do you think we’ll end up shadowing?" Summer wondered aloud. 

Team STRQ stood before the great floating monitors in the main hall of Beacon Academy, excited voices of students echoing off the high walls. Qrow was leaned too close, eyes squinting at the pixelated images as he scrolled rapidly, while Summer listed off two hands’ worth of fingers, each a different professor she would appreciate shadowing.

“Don’t you wonder about their semblances?” she asked her team. 

Qrow continued to ignore her; Taiyang glanced back at Raven, who watched the others indifferently. 

“Not Professor Agrios,” Taiyang said. “I remember hers.”

“But imagine her in a _real fight_ ,” Summer exclaimed.

She certainly was excited about this assignment - a chance to shadow a real Hunter or Huntress. She looked from one member of her team to the next, silver eyes wide with eagerness, not the slightest bit put out that no one else shared her enthusiasm. 

Qrow had his reasons, considering his experience with every professor at Beacon had resulted in nothing but long-winded lectures about his attitude, actions, or attendance. Not exactly a record that sparks desire to hang out with the Hunters more. All Qrow knew was he wanted to fight. A lot. Not only did it relieve stress, it also got the job done if the target was Grimm. 

So it was best that Team STRQ take the most dangerous mission on the list, right?

Raven eyed her brother. He felt the stare, but didn’t return the communication.

He was beginning to realize he didn't give a damn about her opinion. In front of him, the screen blared a sharp noise, red block letters flashing.

_ACCESS DENIED._

The rest of the team turned when Qrow continued to prod at the screen.

Summer gave a surprised squeak. “Qrow! What are you doing?”

“Picking a mission.”

“We’re supposed to be a _team –“_

Qrow rolled his eyes and scanned for the reason of rejection. “It doesn’t matter. Says we’re not allowed on this one.”

"Are we that bad?" Tai asked.

"Bad? No. Perhaps just... _inexperienced."_

Professor Ozpin had seemingly materialized from behind the lights of the screen, squinting from above his glasses at the mission details, pausing to sip from his mug before giving each member of the team an analyzing look.

"Team STRQ, applying for one of the most difficult missions available," the headmaster remarked. "I shouldn't be surprised. The other missions failed to catch your attention?"

"Professor Ozpin! I'm sorry," Taiyang said, elbowing his teammate. "Qrow must have hit it on accident."

"No. I hit it on purpose."

"Qrow, it says third and fourth year students only. We can choose another one," Summer said, stepping between the two men.

"But that’s the best one!” Qrow exclaimed.

"And most dangerous," Taiyang countered.

"You chicken shit or something?"

"N-no!"

"If your team leader believes this mission the best fit for Team STRQ, there may be...ways around the age restriction," Ozpin said, serenely ignoring the students' bickering. "Miss Rose?"

Summer surveyed Qrow carefully. 

For a moment, Qrow could read her as he did his sister, weighing the potential for failing, or whether Qrow intended on behaving.

He would behave if there were enough Grimm.

Summer turned back to the headmaster.

"I think we're up for the task, Professor," she said.

"So it appears," Ozpin said. A touch on his scroll and the red restricted lights on screen flashed green. "Congratulations on your mission. The details are as posted. Do try to be kind to your supervising Huntsman." 

His gaze moved from Summer to Qrow, the wink almost imperceptible as he turned on his heel. 

Raven, Summer, and Taiyang all turned to Qrow.

"Why did you choose the hardest mission known to Beacon Academy? _How_ did you choose the hardest mission known to Beacon Academy?" Taiyang demanded.

Qrow shrugged.

“And you _agreed?”_ Tai asked Summer.

"It doesn't matter now! At this point we have to change our attitude and brace for battle! We can do this! Team STRQ!" Summer threw her fist in the air, pausing as though for the rest of her team.

Raven looked bored.

Taiyang looked worried.

Qrow grinned. “Way to go, shortstack,” he said, and offered her a fistbump. 

Finally, a reason for coming to this school.

***

The team boarded the airship in individualistic fashion - Summer enthusiastic, Taiyang pathetic, Raven apathetic, and Qrow ready. One by one they filed into their seats awaiting their instructor's arrival.

"Now I _really_ wonder who we'll be shadowing!" Summer said. “They keep everything so secretive…”

"Hopefully an entire army," Taiyang grumbled.

"It'll be fine, Tai. Besides, at least if you die you'll die fashionable," Qrow said.

"True. I'll be on the cutting edge with the bandits that come across our bodies. They'll loot my sweet digs for sure."

Qrow bit his tongue to prevent laughing. As revenge for the 'kilt' incident, the outlander had told his friend wonderful tales about the fashion beyond civilization - most specifically, how attractive men that wore socks with sandals were.

No one corrected him. Moreover, Taiyang seemed to find a new way to be enthralled with the look on a daily basis: comfort, warmth, moisture prevention...

It was all _too_ easy.

The headmaster's assistant was waiting on board.

"Welcome, Team STRQ," Ferra Agrios said, without looking up from her scroll. When she did, she surveyed the expressions of the students without humor. "Oh, don't look so doom and gloom," she said. "I'm not the Huntsman you're shadowing. _Not_ a word, Mr. Branwen. Your Huntsman is already on board with the pilots. I do hope you - and he - know what you're doing. Good luck. You'll need it."

So saying, she snapped her scroll shut and exited the ship, shaking her head the entire way out.

"Well. That sounded terrible,” Taiyang said. “Qrow, if I die, I’m haunting you.”

"If you die, I'm taking your game systems," Qrow replied.

"Oh, hush you two. This is going to be fun!"

"This is going to be difficult training. Don't underestimate how difficult the terrain may be where we’re going." 

"That's right! Hey Raven, have you been to where we're going? You know, when you and Qrow were nomads?"

_Nomads._

It was a convenient enough cover and certainly explained the twins' behaviors.

"Yes," was all she said.

Qrow remained silent instead, staring out the window. He wanted to think about the mission and nothing else, tuning out his team members’ voices. 

The approach of a familiar aura interrupted his attempts.

"Ozpin," he said suddenly.

"What? Where?" Tai asked, he and Summer craning their heads out the window.

"You have an excellent sense for aura, Mr. Branwen," came the headmaster's voice from within the plane. 

Ozpin appeared from the cockpit, cane in hand, his characteristic mug missing. "Welcome to your first mission as Huntsmen in training, Team STRQ. Before I give the pilots the order to take off, are you all certain you have everything you require?"

Qrow and Raven responded with curt nods.

Taiyang responded with a gaping mouth. 

"Headmaster...are you our Huntsman?" Summer could barely contain her excitement, giving a little bounce in her chair.

"I'm afraid I am, Miss Rose. I've already heard every reason why it's a terrible decision from my lovely assistant," Professor Ozpin said, as the engines of the airship roared to life, “so I can’t be swayed by Professor Agrios’ reason nor my students’ disappointment.”

_“Disappointment?”_ Summer repeated above the noise, aghast.

He seized the bar of the door and slid it shut, the noise dimming slightly. "Seat belt, Mr. Xiao Long," he added, when the student lurched out of his seat as the ship began to rise. 

"To review the facts at hand," Ozpin continued, swaying with the movement of the ship, both hands on his cane, "this is an evacuation mission. Shining Springs is a small village some distance south of Vale proper, and we have reason to believe the people to be in imminent danger. We will land several kilometers away where there is enough flatland to oblige an airship or two of this size. From there, we will make out way to the village and begin the evacuation procedures. This is not a mission in which we will engage the Grimm. Our first and only priority is to get the citizens to safety. Professional Huntsmen will arrive with us to exterminate the Grimm threat. We lead the evacuation and see to civilian safety. Nothing more. Are these instructions clear?"

Seat belt securely fashioned, Taiyang resembled a bobble head in his nervous eager-to-impress agreement. 

Raven remained silent. Qrow sighed, reluctantly nodding once. Only Summer deigned a verbal acknowledgement with a peppy, "Yes, sir! We will stealthy sneak like no one has snuck before! Ninjas of the night. Silent, but fatal!"

"Like Tai after too much cheese," Qrow added.

"HEY!" Tai protested, but managed to laugh despite his nerves.

"I will reluctantly take that in the affirmative for all of you," the headmaster said. "So, make yourselves comfortable. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us." He took a seat in an empty seat across from the students, crossing one leg over the other. "Do you have any questions for me in the meantime? Comments?" His eyes drifted to Taiyang's socks and sandals before continuing. "...regrets?"

Qrow smothered a laugh. Even the corner of Raven's lips twitched in amusement.

"I regret not putting meal worms in Qrow's bed last night now that he chose this mission," Tai remarked.

"I regret cutting holes in all of Tai's underwear he packed," came the retort.

"Qrow. You didn't really, did you?"

Qrow simply shrugged before the blond tore apart his overnight bag for his undergarments. Sighing in relief, he pulled up a pair of...frilly women's underwear.

Taiyang turned beat red. "QROW!"

"What? I was lying. I didn't cut them up.”

"Where are my boxers?!"

"Back in the dorm, I imagine. Did you grab the wrong ones?"

"I-I swear I... packed..."

Summer twisted in her seat to face the headmaster, smoothing her expression into forced seriousness. "Sir, what do we do if we come across Grimm?"

Ozpin watched the scene before him with an expression denoting - subtly - increasing doubts regarding his choice to waive the restrictions for Team STRQ. He turned to Summer with an almost relieved look. 

"You will alert me, or any other professional Huntsmen on site. We will handle any Grimm ourselves while you continue the evacuation. You will not engage," he emphasized, the volume of his voice rising just enough to be heard over the bickering of Qrow and Taiyang. "I trust I will not have to repeat that particular rule."

He glanced toward Taiyang, the student still clutching at the pair of women's underwear.

"By the way, Mr. Xiao Long," the headmaster added, "I'm sure Miss Branwen and Miss Rose will tell you it's quite possible to do your duty as a Huntsman-in-training while wearing women's undergarments. And if I recall a hazing experience from many, many years ago, I can personally confirm. Now then," Ozpin said, all cheer. "Any other concerns?"

"Sir, were you the one wearing the women's undergarments?" Qrow asked.

"Any other concerns about your mission?" Professor Ozpin corrected.

"Raven? Can I switch with you?" Taiyang held the offensive lacy fabric out to his teammate. "You wear boyshorts, right?"

"Yes. Made for women. They won't be any more comfortable for you," she said.

Taiyang sighed, dejected. 

"Damn Tai, don't get your panties in a bunch -" Qrow stopped, laughing at his own joke. "You can have mine if you can't do it commando. Real men wear kilts, right?" 

"Right," Taiyang grinned. "I sure had you that day."

“And I had all the ladies' attention. A win all around," Qrow chuckled.

"You did look good in the skirt, Qrow," Summer added.

"Don’t I know," he said with a wink. "How many civilians, Professor?"

The incredulous expression on the headmaster's face was brief, flickering as he turned his attention from the other students to Qrow. 

"Fifty-seven," Ozpin said, pulling up a three-dimensional map from his scroll, palming the device with one hand, pointing with the other. "A second airship will meet us there with other Huntsmen. We will divide the villagers on both ships and leave the Huntsmen behind. Miss Rose, Mr. Xiao Long, you will be in charge of escorting civilians to each of the airships. Mr. and Miss Branwen - scouts, on the east and west town lines. The north is flanked by a river, so I will take lead of the south myself, as any Grimm are most likely to come from that direction. Again, Mr. and Miss Branwen - you are scouts only. If you sense any Grimm in the area, find me."

A subtle, almost nonexistent glance toward Qrow followed this statement, as though Ozpin had specific reason to doubt his obedience.

Qrow glanced out the window quickly after, ears still attentive. 

"I have taken a chance in allowing you to be here,” Ozpin continued. “I did so because I fully trust in your abilities to perform this mission as true professionals. You do not need to prove yourself on a battlefield today. With luck, we can clear the village and be back on our way to Vale in a matter of days without incident."

"Understood, Professor. We won't let you down," Summer reassured.

_No fighting._

Qrow suppressed a sigh. Fine. Ozpin wanted a professional; Qrow would be one. This time.

Next time, the headmaster owed Qrow a _real_ fight.

***

Hours passed with little excitement, the students beginning to yawn. After several hours, they shared a lunch while Ozpin disappeared into the cockpit for nearly an hour, returning with an impossible-to-read expression. After a short eternity, the airship shifted in the sky, the engines purring as they began a descent. 

"At the ready," Ozpin said, rising.

Team STRQ rose as one, Taiyang stumbling as the ship lurched onto solid ground.

"Perhaps you should remain seated until we've completely landed, Mr. Xiao Long," Professor Ozpin said dryly. 

The student laughed nervously finally catching his balance upon landing. Safely grounded, the team exited immediately shifting attitude to that of a mission-ready scouting unit.

Summer took immediate charge.

"Alright team. Qrow front right flank. Raven front left flank. Tai, you watch backside. Professor Ozpin, please stay primed in the center with me."

The headmaster nodded once, allowing Summer to take full lead. 

"The road ahead should take us directly into the village about three miles ahead," Ozpin said. His eyes scanned the sky overhead, the afternoon already quickly fading. "We need to arrive before sunset. The other airship..." His voice trailed off, his eyes dropping back to their own ship, distinctly alone. "It seems we are the Huntsmen on duty until further notice."

The Branwen twins nodded curtly then both disappeared into the wooded areas ahead. Within seconds, a deep howl bellowed through the forest.

Taiyang swallowed loudly. "Professor Ozpin? How many extraction missions have you completed?" he asked, his stomach knotted in nerves.

"I don't think I can even count that high, Mr. Xiao Long," Ozpin remarked, following Summer as she lead the way on the main road. "Rest assured, I personally accompanied your team on this mission because of its importance and urgency. Should you require my assistance, I will not hesitate to offer it."

"Right." The student fell silent for five minutes at most before taking to humming to sooth himself. Eventually, it grew to soft words until even the twins could hear him ahead. 

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, diddily dee. There they are a standing-"

"Tai, shut up," Raven hissed.

Professor Ozpin glanced at the voice that came from the shadows of the forest around them, cane tapping quietly along the worn cobbled road. "Since you all have had such...interesting conversations for me, perhaps I can provide one for you. Mr. Xiao Long, what made you decide to become a Huntsman?"

"Huh? Oh ah... I just wanted to go to school and pull pranks. The weapons are really cool too. So I guess I just kinda fell into it? I mean...I didn't want to waste my life sitting at home doing normal jobs."

"It would appear to me that Mr. Branwen has the upper hand in your prank war," Professor Ozpin said lightly. "You'll need to double down on your efforts if you wish to match him. As for the other half of your team..."

"Raven and I stay out of it," Summer declared. "I like going to bed without worrying if it's booby-trapped."

"The wisdom of women," Ozpin chuckled. "Do listen to their advice when they offer it, Mr. Xiao Long."

"Didn't Professor Agrios not want you to come on this mission?" the blond boy asked. “You didn’t listen to –“

"And Miss Rose," the headmaster interrupted, as though he had not heard Taiyang's question. "I must extend the same question. What made you wish to be a Huntress?"

"Oh, you know," the girl said with a shrug. "The usual reasons, I guess. Helping people, fighting bad guys, saving the world. Not very unique, is it?"

"The usual reasons are good reasons," Ozpin said. "They may sound simple, but goodwill toward our neighbors is nothing to be ashamed of."

"What about you, Professor? What make you want to become a headmaster?" Summer asked.

"Ah." Ozpin didn't answer right away, the quiet tap of his cane counting their steps. "I suppose one could say it was unavoidable," he said at last. "When one has a responsibility to protect one's land and people...it's the only option available."

"How come it's your responsibility to protect everyone? Is that part of your semblance or something?" Tai questioned.

"You could say that," Professor Ozpin said. "Given my abilities, it would be irresponsible for me to avoid my role as a Huntsman."

"So what is your semblance?" the boy persisted. 

"Tai, you don't just ask people what their semblance is," Summer hissed.

The headmaster merely chuckled. "If this mission goes as planned, we won't have need of it."

"Oh... sorry... Raven and Qrow like to keep theirs a secret too. But I figured out Qrow's - it's being an ass," he grinned to the right frontal, knowing his teammate heard him.

"At least it's not being the decoy," the body-less voice drifted from the trees.

"Hey, it takes a lot to be a good decoy. You have to be flashy, you have to entertain, you have to figure out if you should take a hit or run..."

"Funny. Here I thought-" the voice fell silent. 

Tai and Summer immediately tensed for battle, knowing very little would stop Qrow from an insult.

Seconds passed with no signal. Carefully, the teammates approached the direction they had heard the voice. Even Professor Ozpin followed, eyes studying the trees.

It was another minute before they spotted a small shift of red in the trees above.

"Qrow, what are you doing?" Summer demanded.

"What, I was just fixing-" he turned and froze cupping a fledgling in his palms, the baby bird cooing with joy. Qrow had not expected the whole brigade to wander off path. He cleared his throat turning his back to the trio. Swiftly securing the nest and chick inside, he hopped down straightening his jacket.

"Awwww does Qrow like widdle birdies?" Tai mocked.

"Can it or I will squash you like I almost did him," Qrow threatened, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"I think he likes me," Tai whispered to Summer.

"I think he likes birds," Summer returned.

"Birds are commendable creatures and worth protecting," Professor Ozpin remarked, lips twitching as he watched Qrow disappear into the trees. "I myself have become rather fond of them recently. Come along, Mr. Xiao Long. We're nearly to the village." 

He glanced at the sky, trees almost obscuring the orange-red sunset, head dropping to check his watch.

"'Commendable creatures' makes it sound like they are smart. They may be cute and fluffy, but 'bird brain' is still an insult," the blond explained.  
"Ah, but size is hardly indicative of intelligence," Ozpin said as they continued along the road. "Birds have been known to rival the intelligence of some of the cleverest mammals. One mustn't underestimate them."

"They dig through trash for food," Taiyang said, unimpressed.

"You eat mystery items found in your backpack after who knows how long," Summer countered.

"Touché, So how do you know if they're smart? I mean, they can't talk to us..." the boy continued, pondering.

"Do you believe speech is the pinnacle of intelligence?" the headmaster asked, his tone amused. "Were that the case, Mr. Xiao Long, we wouldn't require schools beyond kindergarten. No, there are other indications of cleverness. Problem-solving skills, observational abilities, even verbal and facial recognition - these are stronger signs of brainpower. They say the common crow even holds grudges against humans they dislike..."

"Heh. Luckily birds like me. There’s this crow on campus that likes to come in to our room sometimes and he always - I mean ALWAYS - eats on my bed. He likes me. I know it," Tai beamed.

"Or he thinks you're a garbage can and leaves his trash with you. You're always bitching about the nut shells," the disembodied voice returned.

"They hurt when you sleep on them all night!" he defended.

"Then clean your bed more often so he'll stop mistaking it for trash."

"You know, I think I know the bird you're talking about," Summer chimed in. "A crow, I think. I found him picking a lock with a needle the other day."

"He probably thought there was a grub in a tree," said the blonde.

"No... I don't think so. He was picking the lock a liquor cabinet."

"Maybe he just likes picking locks."

"Maybe."

"There are quite a lot of crows at Beacon," Ozpin mused. "I admit to feeding them myself when I have a moment for fresh air. I shouldn't encourage their mischievous behavior, but alas. They're too entertaining to resist."

A soft breeze rustled leaves and carried what sounded like a chuckle amongst them.

Approaching the town walls without incident, Raven and Qrow finally came into view - their eyes sharp on the forest.

"We're clear to open the gates," Raven confirmed, yet refusing to drop her guard.

"They've suffered some casualties," Qrow said nodding towards a fire burning in the distance. "They sent a team to draw the Grimm from the town for the last night before extraction. Most made it back but we will have two wounded."

"The wounded will be our priority," Ozpin said. "We will need to move them to the airships first thing in the morning. It will make for a long walk if they're on stretchers."

He pointed past the town gates with his cane. "They've fashioned the town hall into a temporary barracks. We should be well accommodated there for the night. Miss Rose, you'll need to stagger watch rounds for your team."

"Yes, sir," Summer said smartly. "And you, Professor? What will you be doing?"

"Keeping watch alongside your team. We will require the extra eyes."

"All night?"

"I brought some very strong coffee for such an occasion," the headmaster said lightly, shaking his satchel. "I'm rather used to sleepless nights, I assure you."

“All right!” Summer said, both determined and enthusiastic. “Let’s go, Team STRQ!” She marched ahead, her team following, Tai grinning at Raven, encouraging the silent girl into conversation.

Only Qrow noticed Ozpin hesitate at the gates, glancing back at the road as though looking for someone who had – or hadn’t – followed them.


	8. In which a field mission is subject to bad luck and Qrow still can't follow directions

Qrow closed his eyes, but he didn’t sleep at all. The air was thick, anxiety permeating the atmosphere which, unfortunately, drew the Grimm back to the camp.

Qrow pretended to sleep for all of ten minutes before he was back on watch walking the parameters. He may be bad luck, but at least his aura didn't give off the fear the village was shrouded in.

It felt like the bandit camp filled with new recruits all over again.

 _Fuck._

They were going to need a diversion in the morning otherwise they were never going to make it with the wounded.

The boy heaved a heavy sigh perched on the southernmost corner of the wall. He watched the trees rustle as Grimm gathered.

_Yep. Scouting was going to be fun._

Professor Ozpin stood outside the town hall, listening to the silence of the village around him, broken only by the far off growling of Grimm - or the occasional snore from Mr. Xiao Long. The headmaster pressed lips together as the student made a particularly long noise, cut off abruptly, no doubt, by one of his teammates desperate for rest. It was a single moment of young innocence that Ozpin chose to observe and treasure, before it was once more interrupted by the distant roar of Grimm.

Not distant enough. 

He tipped back the last of his coffee and set the thermos on the porch, glancing at the still building before setting off for the wall. He could sense Qrow's aura nearby but could not see him; nevertheless, he approached the wall, eyes skimming the top, leaning one shoulder against it as he listened.

"They're closer than reports suggested," he said quietly, as though to no one. "And if the huntsmen's airship arrived, we won't have their assistance until first light."

"We need to move any awake villagers to the north. Their nerves are drawing the Grimm closer then we wanted. If they aren't going to sleep and stop panicking, at least we can use them as a diversion to get the wounded out at dawn," the report drifted from the wall.

"Moving them will alert them something is wrong, and may increase panic," Ozpin said. "Read the children enough fairy tales, and they calm down and sleep. The adults, however..."

He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looked back toward the center of the village. 

"There's another gate at the north side of town," he said. "However, the road doesn't circle the town. It leads straight to Sterling City, thirty miles away. It's not an option."

"They're already panicking. If we move them away from the noise it might calm them down enough until the Grimm are at the north gate. Then we beeline for the south gate," Qrow said, dropping from the wall to Ozpin's front. "If we don't move them from the south, we won't stand a chance with the injured. And if the other Huntsmen don't arrive on time the whole village will be surrounded regardless. If we can concentrate the Grimm to the north, we can pick off the curious ones with our scouts while we move the young and old." 

Qrow sighed and looked to the night sky, a heavy weight of responsibility in his eyes. "We both know the other airship should have been here.”

Ozpin said nothing, so the student continued.

“If it doesn't show, we will have to make two trips. We keep anyone decent with a weapon here for round two. Unless..." Qrow dropped his gaze to Ozpin, "you have a better idea?"

Professor Ozpin sighed again, this time more deeply. He didn't reply immediately, nor deny the statement that their reinforcements were late. 

"Sometimes I wonder how your team would be doing if I had made you team leader," he said, giving Qrow a hard look. Then he shook his head. "Go rouse your team. Let them know the plan has changed. Settle the villagers into any building that looks sturdy and easiest to defend. I'll remain here and keep watch. Check back in with me when it's done."

The boy nodded, speaking over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Avoid the east. There is a weak point in the wall. We'll lead them to the north on the west side," he said, and disappeared into the darkness.

***

By dawn, all villagers capable of fighting were secure in the weapons shop with the remaining wounded, children and elderly safely tucked in the chief's quarters. Qrow kept his distance from them, too aware of what his semblance might do - not to mention his ability to comfort was about as good as adding gas to a fire.

Instead, Summer took control, her voice soothing whomever required it, equal parts leader and mother.

A heavy bang at the door startled the children, stirring whimpers. Summer glared, motioning at Tai to answer.

"Open up! I'm not being left here with the men. Do you know who I am? I am-"

Taiyang threw the door open, Raven dragging the man inside and pinning him at the wall with a vice strong enough to knock the wind from him. "Quiet you fool!" she hissed. "I don't give a damn who you are, but if you keep yelling and causing hysteria you're only going to make things worse."

"Raven. Let him down please," Summer requested placing a hand on her teammate's arm. Slowly the man was relinquished, Raven abruptly turning her back and walking away before she struck again.

"Sir. We have limited space on the airship. We may only move so many at a time and-"

"As I was saying," he interrupted, "my name is Bartlett Sale." The man fell silent waiting for an apparent name recognition falling on deaf ears. "Jacques Schnee is my cousin!" he insisted.

"Aaaaannnd?" Taiyang pressed.

"And you had better get me out of here on the first airship possible or he will certainly hear of it!"

Raven's hand clamped down on the man's mouth again cutting off his voice.

"Raven..." Summer began.

"Jacques Schnee?" came the headmaster's voice.

Professor Ozpin stepped into the building, cane tapping in time with his steps. "He took the Schnee name when he married? How...economical. Miss Branwen, you can release him. I'm sure Mr. Sale has no interest in causing unnecessary panic that may draw more Grimm to us."

Sale shot the girl a black look when Raven obeyed, shrugging sullenly. 

Ozpin offered the man a small smile. "My congratulations to the happy couple," he said. "I fully intended on attending the wedding myself, but it's so very difficult for me to get away from Beacon this time of year."

Sale bristled. "The wedding was eight months ago."

"Was it? How absent-minded of me. My wedding gift may be an anniversary gift by the time it arrives in Atlas. Then again, I'm sure Mrs. Schnee has already given Jacques everything he wants."

"Yes," Sale said stiffly. "He is greatly in love."

"He's been in love with the Schnee name for years, if memory serves," Professor Ozpin said, absently surveying the room. "Now, Mr. Sale, my students have been instructed by myself to see that the wounded and those of delicate age are given the first opportunity to evacuate. If you fall into either category without my realizing, I would appreciate the chance to rectify that."

Sale huffed, fuming silently. "As a member of higher social ranking with influential power across the region it would be irresponsible for you to not take me first. Should something happen to me, why, why- the very trade between Atlas and Vale could tank! Surely you and your Huntsmen wouldn't want to lose access to precious Dust," he smirked smugly.

"If I knock him out, he could be added to the wounded list," Qrow offered dryly, following Ozpin into the building.

"Why, I-" Sale began.

"Mr. Sale, please understand that we have limited space. If you come with us, you must be able to brandish a weapon and help protect those unable to protect themselves," Summer interjected.

Another huffy sigh and Bartlett nodded if only to be rid of the hell hole as soon as possible. "My guards. They will come too and protect us - well one guard. The other is on a crutch..." he gestured to a wounded man in the corner, sporting a makeshift cast on his left leg. Raven had cared for the man the night before, accustomed to treating wounds in less than ideal conditions. 

"He obviously was not worth his price," Sale glowered. "However, my other guard is in prime shape and will see me safely with you."

"Mr. Branwen, please accompany our illustrious guest back to the airship with the first evacuees," Professor Ozpin said, his tone light. "Mr. Sale is, as he stated, a man of influential power across the region and therefore of no use to me here. I'm sure he will not object to his personal guard being utilized in the protection of the wounded."

Ozpin glanced to where Raven stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Sale.

"Miss Branwen, another status report on the Grimm near the south wall before the first party leaves, if you please. Mr. Sale, as Miss Rose pointed out, it is not merely a good idea that you bring a weapon with you, but a requirement if you wish to leave in my airship. You have my full hospitality so long as this prerequisite is met."

"I-" Sale began, only to be cut off by the shovel shoved into his chest - enough to knock the wind out of him.

"That should do. Hit them with the heavy end," Qrow added brushing past Bartlett carelessly. "Let's go.”

The teammates filed out, guiding the young and old to the southern gate. Raven returned via her portal delivering promising news: a free path as far as she could sense, and so the group set off.

Ozpin waited at the gates as Team STRQ prepared to leave. His face betrayed no sense of emotion as he surveyed the road that stretched from the town, but he shifted on his feet more than Qrow knew was normal, tapping his cane against the ground as though impatient.

The dirt road leading to the airship remained empty of the Huntsmen reinforcements the headmaster had waited up all night to see. 

Not that he would say as much to his students, Qrow knew.

"This isn't right," Ozpin murmured, when only Qrow could hear him. "Professors are required to remain with their student teams for the entirety of the mission."

He glanced back at the remaining civilians, then toward Sale's only healthy bodyguard. The meaning was clear enough - without Ozpin staying behind, there would be no active protection for the remaining civilians other than the walls themselves.

"You're the headmaster. Are we leaving you or the douchebag's guard?" Qrow asked in odd air of ambivalence. 

Ozpin closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes again, it was with renewed purpose. "I'm coming with you," he said, pushing off his cane. "The civilians left are able-bodied and armed. My priority lies with my students, and protecting the children. I'll inform Mr. Sale that his remaining guard must stay behind."

Qrow nodded disappearing to fetch the man in question.

"Sir?" 

The guard seemed to hold none of the same attitude characteristic to his master, approaching Ozpin with the respect earned by a Huntsman. 

"You'll be staying behind with the civilians," Ozpin said. "You'll be returned to your master tomorrow when the airship returns. In the meantime, you're the closest we have to a Huntsman to protect those left behind."

"Understood, sir," the guard said, with a smart, Atlasian salute. A moment's hesitation followed, the man glancing back at the party readying to leave.

"I'll speak to your master myself," Ozpin said. "Back inside the walls, if you please. I'll relieve you of your duties when I arrive back tonight."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The guard hoisted his bag and weapon, trotting into the relative safety of the town walls. 

"What in the world - excuse me! Excuse me, Professor Ozpin," Sale said, pushing his way through the crowd, watching incredulously as his last guard was sent away. "Where did you send him? I need my protection!"

"And so you will have it," Ozpin said evenly, "but not from him in particular. I require at least one formally trained soldier in the town while we are getting these civilians to safety. This is the cost I will ask of you for the use of my airship."

Sale sputtered anew. "But that man is paid - paid well, mind you - to keep me safe!"

"And now he is being paid to keep those safe," the headmaster replied, "in exchange for my personal protection over you, Mr. Sale."

"Your -" Sale paused, regarding Ozpin with narrowed eyes. "Yes, well. Your talents are a thing of some reputation. You will act as my personal bodyguard?"

"I will act as the personal bodyguard of every man, woman, and child in this party," Ozpin said. 

"But there are so many of them!"

"Ah, but a Huntsman of my reputation can surely handle all of you without incident," Ozpin remarked, "so long as you keep your fears under control. Come along, Mr. Branwen." So saying, he offered a brief pat of Sale's shoulder and walked off to find the rest of Team STRQ.

Qrow shook his head as he took post behind Sale. The position wasn't ideal... in fact it was something of a disadvantage having to shadow someone so flighty. Then again, Qrow did want to fight and he was certain Sale's "confidence" would attract at least one or two Grimm for the boy.

Stretching briefly, the group took formation - Raven and Taiyang leading the pack, Summer and Professor Ozpin bringing up the rear, Qrow and Sale parked in the center of the pack at the businessman's insistence. Qrow didn't like the center (it was yet another disadvantage to spot the forest from the trees), so he skirted to the right of the group allowing for a clear view on one side of the pack. 

The gates creaked open, Raven and Taiyang stepping out, signaling the group to join during the moment of clarity. 

The first mile passed without incident - Sale even chancing cocky confidence. "The Grimm must sense my confidence...my nobility. They fear my stature. It's a good thing you had me in the first run or you would be swarmed with the whole lot!"

Qrow arms prickled feeling the words turn prophetic, a darkness in the trees creeping up his spine.

A rustle to the right perked the guard's attention, Qrow stopping dead in his tracks, flipping around to brace the impact of an attacking Beowolf. 

Panic fell like a rainstorm, the sharp wails of children rising into the air.

"Team STRQ - positions!" came Ozpin's voice, ringing the command above the clamor of terror and roars of nearby Grimm. "Qrow, on your left!"

Qrow kicked back the Beowolf before him to reel left for the next attack - but the Grimm launched not at him, but Sale. Sale, whom in a state of panic had thrown his wounded guard to the Beowolf. 

The shower of blood was hot on his face.

"NO!" Qrow yelled, before slicing his sword cleanly into the Grimm's skull. 

The creature dissolved, but not before it had taken the top half of the wounded man with him. 

Qrow cursed, his eyes glinting with wrath as he flipped back to exterminate all remaining Grimm right-flanking the group. He saw nothing, nothing but red rage and the black of Beowolf fur, the fading light in their eyes as his weapon tore through them, the blade a part of himself now, all movement instinctual, all thought unnecessary. 

He didn’t slow until the last had fallen, whirling around to find himself facing Raven, her face unreadable, her sword stained with blood. 

“It’s over,” she said, and Qrow’s bloodlust shattered, his other senses roaring back to life, as though escaping a vacuum.

He looked about the settling dust: Summer and Taiyang were with the civilians calming who they could; Ozpin was off ahead, inspecting the road; Raven on watch, her hand still on her sword hilt; Sale -

Qrow hauled Sale by the shirt up against the nearest tree, feeling the heaviness of his body striking the trunk.

"You even think about doing that again and I will throw you to the Beowolves and watch them tear you to shreds –“

"Mr. Branwen, report!"

Ozpin appeared at the center of the group, eyes dropping immediately to the dismembered body of the wounded man before him. Lips pressed together, eyes raising to the remaining civilians. 

“Cover the body,” Ozpin murmured to Raven. “Borrow a blanket, a towel – just don’t let them see it.”

A brief nod, and the girl was gone.

"No one else is injured?" Ozpin asked.

Qrow shook his head.

"How did this happen?" the headmaster asked. "The wounded should have been in the center of the party for protection."

Qrow, refusing to release his charge, only tightened his grip successfully robbing Sale of precious breath. 

"This piece of shit threw him in front of a Beowolf.”

"I-" Sale was cut off by another shove to his chest, Sale clawing the boy's arm for some relief. 

"He was MY guard! He knew he was hired to lay down his life for me! And that is exactly what he did!" Sale bellowed. 

"Permission to knock him the fuck out, Professor?"

"Not quite yet, Mr. Branwen," Ozpin said, "although if you have a single reason to think Mr. Sale will cause the slightest amount of injury to any other member of this party, you have my explicit permission. Mr. Sale, I will not pause to explain why your actions are reprehensible, because we are at the mercy of such negative emotions, but rest assured I am _tempted."_

Raven returned with a thin sheet, folding it and drawing it over the body, where small red flowers seemed to bloom beneath.

Ozpin drew a long breath, striking his cane on the dirt road. "There is nothing we can do for the fallen now. Proceed, Miss Rose. I will return tomorrow and ensure a proper burial. In the meantime, our survivors are our priority. Mr. Branwen, keep a _very_ sharp eye on Mr. Sale. For his _protection."_

Qrow cursed, knowing this was his cue to release the man...which he only did after knocking the wind clear from his lungs. He resisted the urge to smirk watching the man tumble over to the ground. "Understood. You fuck up, I fuck you up. Move,” he ordered coolly.

Had this been mere months ago, Qrow wouldn’t have needed to ask permission. Had this been mere months ago, the tribe would have given him the freedom to make Sale listen. On Qrow’s terms.

Instead, Qrow felt his jaw click loudly, angry with the undue tension he forced upon it.

Ozpin watched as the party moved on, waiting until the tail end met up with him. He struck his cane into the earth as he walked, nodding at Miss Rose when she shot him a questioning glance. 

"A small incident," Ozpin said simply.

Summer nodded, the motion halting as she spied the abandoned stretcher, the half of a man hidden under a dirty sheet.

"Oh," she whispered. 

"Please, Miss Rose. Control your emotions. It is absolutely necessary in this moment."

"Yes, sir," the girl said, with admirable restraint. "We have to get these people to safety."

Ozpin almost smiled at her determination. "I made a very good decision in making you your team leader."

Summer looked up in surprise, the expression softening. "Thank you, Professor."

Ozpin said nothing, merely acknowledging the comment with a silent nod.

With great caution, and considerable pace given the lack of stretcher, the gathering arrived at the airship. No words were spoken between the Huntsmen in training, or even Sale himself until the airship was in view. Ozpin provided orderly instructions, Qrow held Sale by the collar to ensure he did not rush in first. 

Once everyone was situated on board, Qrow released the man, grinning when he hurried too quickly - tripping over Qrow's extended foot - grinning still further when the shove from behind caused the man to bust his lip open on the sharp edge of the airship step.

"You really should watch your step."

"Oh dear, what a terrible wound," Ozpin remarked, stepping onto the airship after the merchant. "Do watch yourself, Mr. Sale, and be sure to fasten your seat belt before the ship takes off."

"Team STRQ," the headmaster added loudly over the chaos of the ship's interior, "I thank you for your service to these civilians and to this mission. Contrary to our previous plans, you will be returning with the airship to Vale. Give my regards to Acting Headmistress Agrios, and I will see you when I return. Captain, you are cleared for takeoff the moment I disembark."

Without another word, Professor Ozpin stepped off the ship, closing the door behind him and trotting to a safe distance so that the ship could become airborne. 

He did not notice Qrow slip from the opposite side until it was too late.


	9. In which Qrow is in a lot of trouble but Professor Ozpin keeps forgiving him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the latest episode of RWBY, we seem to have gotten one small detail incorrect in our headcanon, but we'll keep posting our story as written - with just a small canon divergence. We hope we have all the other details correct! Only time will tell. ;D

Qrow watched from the other side of the airship as it rose into the air, clearing the landing, flying for safety. Airship clear out of view, Qrow dropped his gaze to the headmaster. 

When the dust settled, Ozpin was regarding Qrow with both incredulity and horror – an expression, for once, that Qrow could read plainly, without a mask, without effort.

"Qrow," the professor said, over the whirl of ship overhead. "Did you not understand my orders?"

"Get everyone on board, then gear up for round two."

"Your team is on route back to Vale," the headmaster said sharply, "as per my orders. Under no circumstances did I want students remaining behind."

"Oops."

"You were on that ship minutes ago when I made the announcement. You knew _damn_ well that I -"

The roar of Grimm nearby made the headmaster pause, taking in a long breath. He let it out slowly, pushing his glasses further up his nose and glancing toward the sound.

Qrow clamped his lips together fighting an instinctual smirk. He had made Ozpin swear. It sounded almost foreign in the headmaster’s voice.

In any other situation, Qrow would have been proud of it.

Now…

Now didn’t seem like the time for the games he played on the tribe growing up unless he wanted it to end up like when he took Tiny Timber’s favorite-

Well. Let’s just say Tiny wasn’t tiny and Qrow couldn’t return to the camp for the next week.

But it was so worth it…

"Very well," Ozpin said, quietly. "Come along. We need to get back to the village and see that the remaining civilians are ready for when the airship returns in the morning."

Qrow gave a simple nod, avoiding further distress given the risky circumstances, then fell into step at the headmaster's side. 

Two miles passed in silence, until on the third Qrow took notice of the headmaster's slight lean growing.

"You'll have to attempt an hour of sleep," the boy said matter-of-factly.

"I'll be fi-" Ozpin broke off the protest, eyeing Qrow carefully. He took another three steps before replying.

"I suppose you're right. Now that I have at least one Huntsman-in-training with me, I can allow _one_ hour."

The boy merely nodded again, allowing the remainder of the journey to pass in silence. They heard nothing more than the soft fall of their own footsteps, the forest eerily quiet.

Both men kept their eyes averted from the sheet-encased body as they walked past. Qrow thought he heard Ozpin sigh, but when his eyes flickered to his headmaster, Ozpin’s face was devoid of anything except fatigue.

On a man who showed so little, that expression was more than worrying.

The gate groaned while opening, attracting the attention of the Grimm from the north, growls and snarls echoing above the still forest. Qrow and Ozpin motioned at each other to go first, the headmaster raising an eyebrow when Qrow hesitated.

“Students first,” Ozpin murmured, following Qrow through the slim opening, pulling the gates closed behind him. “That is an order.”

Qrow waited patiently as the villagers reported to Ozpin any pertinent information. Obedience came effortlessly now; he knew he was on Ozpin’s shitlist for leaving the airship, so best to play it safe. Good behavior and Ozpin’s focus on the mission would be enough for forgiveness.

Qrow stayed because the headmaster had owed him a fight, and he intended to take it. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

He ignored the small voice that asked him if he stayed because he was worried about Ozpin. The headmaster, of course, could take care of himself, and sure as hell didn’t need a cursed first-year as protection.

_Of course._

The villagers offered good news reporting no change. The northern wall held; the men were as calm as they could be with their loved ones safely away. 

"We'll need a decoy," Qrow whispered to Ozpin at the end of the report. "A timed fire or explosion in the north will give us more of a head start. They won't stay in the town with no one left behind. We can't chance outrunning them and expect no casualties without _some_ distraction."

Ozpin sat down on the porch of the safe house, the movement heavy. 

"A worthy idea," the headmaster said, rubbing his eyes from behind his glasses. "Do you have someone in mind to set the fire?"

"Me," Qrow offered instantly. "I spent some time working distractions during rai- ah...pranks. I can get in and out without the Grimm even knowing."

“Qrow. I cannot allow you to go off alone –“

“You can’t do it. You can’t leave civilians to fight Grimm, Professor. It’s me or nothing.”

Ozpin’s jaw clenched; the smallest indication of his indecision. 

“You know I’m right,” Qrow said.

Ozpin didn’t look at all happy about it.

The headmaster hesitated one moment longer. "Will you be able to make it back to the south gates in time? If something were to happen to you..."

"I could make it back before you," Qrow reassured. "I'll join the group when I'm done. _Before_ you get to the airship."

"You had better," Ozpin said sharply, his expression softening as the professor leaned back, holding back an obvious sigh. "Very well, please make the necessary arrangements. I'll look over everything before you put it in motion.”

“Understood. What else do you need?” 

The headmaster rested his head against the porch railing, eyes closing.

“I just need a moment or two to rest for now..."

Qrow gave a nod, watching as the headmaster drifted into light sleep. 

Another new way to see Ozpin, Qrow thought, studying the headmaster’s fingers loosen from around his cane, his breathing fall even. The image of Professor Ozpin, illustrious and reserved headmaster, was still the default method in which Qrow regarded him; and yet there were other sides of him now that Qrow did not understand: the soft pattering of Ozpin in his slippers as Qrow recovered from a hangover; the sighs he let out when he thought he was alone in his office; the playful tones with which he spoke to Ferra Agrios that faded the moment he disconnected from a call; and now, the open, unassuming expression of sleep.

Human sides of a man who rarely seemed human.

Qrow narrowed his eyes as he considered this, unsure what to make of any of it. He pushed himself into action – his footsteps soft to avoid waking Ozpin – so that the headmaster had less worrying to do when he woke.

Over the next three hours, Qrow scavenged every highly reactive substance and a Molotov cocktail, building a large fort in the north end of town. By nightfall, he was ready. 

The student and headmaster took rotations throughout the night - each sleeping in two-hour increments and shifting with the hired guard and village strongmen.

At dawn Ozpin appeared outside the safe house, following Qrow's eyes as they drifted over the landscape - quiet for now. 

Both men knew better than to trust it, the air heavy with the presence of darkness in the forest.

"The airship pilot has contacted me," the headmaster said softly. "They've landed and are awaiting our arrival. I've roused the civilians; they should be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes."

"The Grimm have started looking for new ways in. We're detonating the explosion right before you reach the south gate. Can't risk opening it if they've had all night to investigate it.”

"Dust set," Raven appeared from the shadows behind Qrow.

Qrow nodded a thanks to his twin. "Which means you'll have an ice wall in the south after I hit the north," he said to the professor.

Professor Ozpin gave Raven a long stare, as though he didn't entirely believe his eyes. Then, shaking his head to himself, he laughed softly. 

"The Branwen twins - more alike than they prefer to think," the headmaster remarked. "Thank you. I expect you both to be back with the party the moment the fuses are lit. On this matter, I will accept no excuses."

"I'll be with the group. Qrow will set the Dust off on his way back. He has five minutes," she said, turning her back to both men and setting out for the south gate.

"Charming, isn't she?" Qrow said sarcastically, watching Raven leave and feeling the familiar tightening of his collar whenever she set him a curfew. Normally, he would rebel, but he knew business was business and this was not the best time to fuck around to prove a point.

The headmaster said nothing, watching Raven head off to the gates. The civilians began to file out, the able-bodied carrying weapons, or farming tools made into temporary means of defense. 

"To the gates, please," Ozpin said. "Miss Branwen will lead the party. I will take the rear. On guard at all times, but please, do not panic. Our greatest threat now is the lack of control of our own emotions. A short walk, and then you'll be reunited with your families."

Ozpin took a quick headcount as the last of the men filed out of the building, letting them gain some distance before turning back to Qrow.

"Your sister said five minutes," the professor reminded him. "I expect to see you in four." He picked up his cane with an air of determination, pausing at the top of the stairs. "Be careful, Qrow. Don't engage them alone. Just make it back to me safely."

"Yeah, yeah..." He groaned silently. Now an even tighter leash. 

_Great._

Qrow disappeared behind the safe house. Once clearly out of view, he transformed, taking flight. First, a final circle of the town ensuring all were appropriately within range of the southern gate; then the northern trigger.

The blast was so strong a shock wave toppled Qrow forward midair. Tumbling in a summersault, he caught his balance in a glide - east? No, west. Shit.

Another circle to reorient himself until he located the ice dust his twin had brought from the academy. Another flick, another trigger, and ice walls sprouted on both sides of the town temporarily separating the Grimm from the travelers. 

Nearing the south, Qrow resumed his human form, hidden in the thick of the forest. Silently, he approached Ozpin from behind knowing the Huntsman would sense him without startling the villagers.

"Told you I could do it," the boy boasted, barely a whisper.

The headmaster gave Qrow no more than a slight glance, as though the boy's reappearance was unsurprising. But a hand rose to rest briefly on Qrow's shoulder, the squeeze a silent _thank you._

"No sign of Grimm since the explosion," Ozpin said. "It seems your plan worked precisely as expected."

The boy let the compliment stand, instead opting for silence, his pride subtle but recognizable by the headmaster.

Yet the trip was uneventful. The airship finally in sight, flanked by two more arriving full of Huntsmen ready for battle against the howling enemies in the distance.

"Wounded?" one asked the headmaster as the villagers filed into the ship.

"None," Ozpin said. "We've managed quite well on our own. May I ask as to what delayed your ship? You were expected yesterday."

"Engine trouble, sir. Had to wait nearly a day for another airship to arrive."

There seemed to be quite a lot of things Ozpin wished to say, but instead the headmaster gave a short sigh, the slight slouch of his shoulders indicating a weariness that prevented his temper from rising. 

"I have only one favor to ask then," he said. "We suffered one casualty yesterday - an Atlas guard under the employ of a Mr. Bartlett Sale. The...body is in the house nearest the south gates of town, wrapped in a sheet. If you could see that he is returned to his family for a proper burial..."

The huntsman looked taken aback for a moment. "Yes, sir. Of course. I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner to have prevented it."

"As I am," Ozpin murmured, dismissing the man with a wave. "Come along, Mr. Branwen. I think we've earned a bit of rest on the ride home."

_You don't have to tell me twice._ The teen strolled in past the headmaster, parking himself firmly in a secluded corner near a window in which he could survey the land as they took off. 

A fight he had wanted. A fight he had gotten. A casualty he hadn't expected. 

If he were at home, Qrow would have just decked the coward and left him for the Grimm. 

If he were at home, he-

Qrow lost himself staring out the window in reflection on the death. On Bartlett Sale.

Ozpin didn't board until all the civilians had settled in, slipping past them to stop in the cockpit. 

When he returned, he took the seat beside Qrow, as though he too wanted the separation and shadows afforded by the back seats. 

"Congratulations on your first mission as a huntsman," the headmaster said quietly, as the engines of the ship roared to life. He leaned back and closed his eyes, cane resting on his lap.

Qrow didn't interrupt his gaze out the window as the airship rose. 

"I'm not a huntsman yet," he corrected. Qrow clenched his hidden fist pinned between him and the window - his other casually dangling on the arm rest between the two men. 

All things considered, the mission had gone astronomically well. 

And yet. 

Qrow still wanted to pummel that guy and drop him out the airship.

Probably another good reason he wasn't on the first flight with that piece of shit.

"Perhaps not, but you performed as admirably as one," Ozpin said, without opening his eyes. "These were extreme circumstances that even I did not foresee. Considering that, I must admit I am impressed with Team STRQ's talent in the face of a challenge - particularly with your quick thinking."

Ozpin could feel the shrug of the boy's shoulders next to him.

"Don't die. 'S just something we grew up with. 'Every man for himself,’" he mused.

"Except you did everything in the past two days for others," Ozpin remarked. "All your efforts went into saving others."

Qrow's uniform breath halted, a strange twitch threatening in his brow.

"Don't be sentimental. I just wanted to pass and rub it in Tai's face," he grumbled evenly.

He was simply hardwired for survival, Qrow told himself. If it meant he could show off and get the ladies with his war stories, then it was all worth it. 

Perfectly self-serving.

"Ah," the headmaster said. "Then in that case, I'm sure you'll have plenty with which to tease Mr. Xiao Long. He seemed particularly curious as to my semblance. I don't suppose you would want to drop a hint or two that you have seen it; he needn't know it wasn't in this field mission..."

"Heh. Done."

Ozpin smiled with closed eyes, opening them to give Qrow a sidelong glance. 

"I regret that you had to personally deal with a man such as Mr. Sale," the professor said, his voice soft, "and that he acted so horrifically under your supervision. I know that once you are a Huntsman, that sort of scene is perhaps inevitable...but nevertheless I am sorry you had to see it."

Qrow remained silent, absorbing the man's words and reflecting on the events of the last two days. 

"It's not that different from what I grew up with. Everyone looks out for themselves. Survival. During the raids, people got killed all the time. And not just ‘cause of the Grimm."

"I see," Ozpin said. "Then I am sorry for that as well. No child should have to grow up in such circumstances. It has made you strong in many ways. I hope you continue to use that strength to protect those who do not possess it themselves. Most of all, I hope that you continue to find happiness despite your struggles. Play your pranks on Mr. Xiao Long. Laugh. But please do not close yourself off from everything good the world has to offer."

The boy turned from the window to face the headmaster, crimson eyes critical of the man’s meaning. 

"Your sister seems to resist any attempts of others to become close," Ozpin said. "I have tried and failed, and kept my distance to prevent her from withdrawing further. Your teammates do not seem particularly close to her. She doesn't even seem to speak to you often. She is a strong young woman, but I worry…"

The professor paused. "I may not be able to help her overcome her demons, but if I can do something to help you..." 

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. "I don't want you to withdraw into yourself, Qrow. You have too much good to offer to live inside yourself. I can see I may merely be confusing you. Perhaps when you're older, and I am rested well enough to be more articulate..."

Qrow arched his eyebrows, nodding once as if the professor were completely mad. "Yeah...get some sleep." 

_Senile old man..._

Nevertheless, Qrow smirked.

Ozpin's lips twitched. "Yes, perhaps that's for the best." So saying, he settled more deeply into his seat, heavy eyelids closing. "Heaven forbid I get sentimental when I'm tired..."

This time, the headmaster's comment was greeted by a soft chuckle as the boy too settled to rest.

The airship landed almost gracefully, jerking at the final moment it touched down. From beside Qrow, Ozpin woke with a start, brown eyes darting about as though he did not recall the party was no longer in danger.

The headmaster eased back into his seat without relaxing, clasping his cane more closely. 

"Let the civilians disembark first," he said quietly to Qrow. "They've had a rougher time of things than we have."

The pair sat in silence as the men filed out, meager belongings in tow. Only after the last stepped from the ship did the headmaster rise, briefly rolling his shoulders, a series of soft _pops_ heard from his joints. 

"I don't think we'll enjoy this part," Ozpin told Qrow, motioning for the student to follow. Raven had already vanished from the ship, neither having seen her, Ozpin seemingly unconcerned with her disappearance, as though he expected it. 

Qrow didn't have to ask what Ozpin meant; the two stepped off the ship into the sunlight to find only Ferra Agrios waiting, the civilians escorted to their emergency quarters.

She said nothing until both men were within reach, but the tapping of her foot and the fire in her eyes spoke more than words.

"Well!" she said, the syllable sharp. "Happy with yourselves?"

"Good afternoon, Ferra," Ozpin said, half-cheerful, half-weary.

_"Good afternoon?"_ she repeated, incredulous. "Is that all you have to say for yourself, sir? After dismissing my concerns about leaving your school to gallivant in the forest with Mr. Branwen and the rest of Team STRQ, you end up being gone for twice what you told me, _and_ you barely answered my texts. I was positively -"

"Worried sick?" Ozpin offered, interrupting the increasingly shrill lecture.

_"Pissed off,"_ Ferra snapped. "I didn't know if you were alive or dead - let alone Branwen, who you explicitly told me would be on the ship yesterday with his team, and then you _ignored_ my advice to return as well -"

"You had to know that was impossible," Ozpin said. "There were still twenty-seven people in the town, and I was the only huntsman."

Ferra pressed her lips together, a counter argument not coming to mind. "Fine. _Fine._ Throw yourself to the Beowolves if you must, never minding you have a _school_ to run. And whatever in the _hell_ kept the other huntsmen from arriving as they were supposed to? This was supposed to be a difficult mission, but it was never meant to put students' lives on the line!"

"Technical difficulties," Ozpin said, his voice decidedly weary now. 

"You _cannot_ be serious. They knew the situation was dire - that there were _students_ present - that you yourself -"

"Ferra, I wholeheartedly agree with your indignation," Ozpin interrupted. "But what's done is done, and what matters now is keeping the civilians safe until we can clear their town of Grimm. And Team STRQ must be commended for their level of professionalism in the face of extreme adversity."

Ferra's eyes moved from Ozpin to Qrow, narrowing. "You still haven't mentioned _why_ Branwen remained behind."

"An unexpected change of plans. I found myself unable to adequately protect twenty-seven people alone."

"Of all the _irresponsible_ \- sir, he is a _student_. A first year student!"

"Students that I trusted enough with my life," Ozpin said, his tone firm, "and given our life-or-death situation, I judged both to be level-headed in the face of that."

Ferra fell silent, regarding the headmaster with an expression torn between concern and fury. "You're lucky you weren't injured. _Killed."_

"You know Mr. Branwen and I are far too stubborn to be killed by the Grimm," Ozpin remarked lightly. "A rogue bolt of lightning, perhaps, or a caffeine overdose. But nothing so common as being killed by something trying to kill us."

"Sir..."

"But on that morbid note, Ferra, I do have a single favor to ask after you have already done so much for me in my absence. There was a man who arrived yesterday. I am certain he made himself known - a Mr. Bartlett Sale."

Ferra's face took on an expression indicative of a sudden illness. 

"Excellent, you know him. I need a bit of information from him - the name of the guardsman who fell in the line of duty. I doubt I will be able to make it to Atlas for the funeral, but I would like to send flowers and my personal sympathies to the family."

"I..." Ferra blinked. "There...there was a _casualty?_ Someone _died?"_ Her voice rose an octave with each word.

"Ferra, please, I would like to keep this information privileged. I have no doubt given Mr. Sale's unfortunate connections that I will soon be hearing from the Council regarding the incident."

Ferra, utterly at a loss for words, spluttered a few indignant, incoherent syllables. 

"Thank you, Ferra. I greatly appreciate it. Qrow, I will leave you to return to your dorm. Please do not discuss the events of your mission with anyone else until I can properly debrief your team tomorrow. In the meantime, I want nothing else today but a proper meal and a very hot shower. No - a bubble bath. Yes, that sounds quite fine..."

The headmaster's voice trailed as he wandered off in the direction of the clock tower, cane swinging almost cheerfully.

Ferra watched him in some disbelief for a few moments, turning to Qrow when she remembered his presence. 

"I...I suppose you heard his orders," she said. She glanced back at Ozpin's disappearing form, shaking her head. "That man is going to be the death of me. You mark my words."

Qrow backed up slowly, nodding at the professor's words.

"Oh, just _go,"_ Professor Agrios said, the words a great exhale. "I can't do a thing until I know the facts, but rest assured your headmaster has half a dozen lectures to sit through before I'm done with him!"

"Better him than me," Qrow muttered, escaping as quickly as he could, before Professor Agrios could change her mind - or make Qrow preview her shrill _I told you so_ s she planned on giving Ozpin.


	10. In which the Vytal Festival brings more students for Qrow to prank and Summer tries to bribe the headmaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the brief hiatus! We're back at writing and we hope you enjoy the rest of Qrow's first year at Beacon. Things will only get...more interesting in Year 2 ~

Qrow’s first Vytal Festival descended upon Beacon Academy almost overnight, an event that promised students from across unfamiliar continents and a championship of Huntsman skill unlike any other.

Qrow was not impressed.

The first years’ training was a joke. Their fighting – amateur at best. Most would never survive the Branwen lifestyle. Raven shared Qrow’s lack of enthusiasm, rolling her eyes when conversation inevitably shifted back to the event. The topic was impossible to avoid – in class, in announcements made by professors, eager rumors spread by students in halls, in dorms -

“The Vytal Festival! This is so exciting!” Summer exclaimed, bouncing merrily on her dorm bed.

“Why?” Qrow asked flatly, sauntering into the room, flopping on his own bed.

“It’s only the end all, take-no-prisoners ranking for the four academies across the kingdoms.”

So Summer learned sarcasm? Must be those secret meetings with Ozpin.

“We’re not going,” Raven interjected, motioning with her head at Qrow. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against her bed post. Her stance was absolute. 

From across the room, Qrow watched Taiyang’s face fall.

Qrow knew this; he knew they weren’t going to join in the festival, and yet he was disappointed. He really wanted to teach those assholes from Atlas a lesson in -

“Aw! Come on, Raven,” Summer begged. “We need the whole team to enter. It’s in the rules.”

“We didn’t come here to enter some pointless competition. Never reveal your hand to your opponent. You’ll lose your advantage.”

“But it’ll be _fun!”_ Taiyang came to Summer’s rescue.

“It would blast our skills on display for the whole stadium to see,” Raven snapped. Cold eyes bore into her optimistic teammates.

Tai shrank from her glare.

“Don’t forget the cameras. All of the kingdoms could watch. Record,” Qrow reasoned, taking post next to his sister, mirroring her stance.

“But - “ Summer began.

Raven’s glare cut her words off. 

The conversation was over.

“…Come on Summer. Let’s go. _We_ can watch the festival and have fun.” Taiyang consoled her softly, gently guiding her dejected form to the door. “I’ll even buy you popcorn…”

Qrow felt Summer’s aura perk up as the door closed behind the two. She’d be fine. Sure they were pissed at Qrow and his sister, but while the conversation between teammates was over, the conversation between siblings was not.

“I trust this doesn’t need saying, but don’t forget why we’re here, Qrow,” Raven murmured.

“To kick everyone’s asses.”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Blend _in,_ Qrow. We want to learn how Huntsmen fight to _kill_ them. Do _not_ befriend them.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“That includes Ozpin.”

Qrow snorted.

Raven glared.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You spend too much time with him.”

“Recon,” Qrow defended, returning his twin’s glare with equal intensity. 

“For what, Qrow? We aren’t aiming to take down headmasters. Don’t forget, this is about survival. We kill those who come after us.”

“And he’s more skilled than all the students combined.”

Raven paused at this. “You’ve seen him?”

“Instinct.”

Qrow could feel his skin crawling as his sister’s eyes roamed his body. She always read him best -

“You look up to him,” she concluded dryly.

“For fuck’s sake, Raven. You saw him on the mission. You can’t tell me you don’t want that,” he cursed, running his hands through his hair, restless legs pacing in circles. “‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.’ Deception’s our life. He thinks I’m some…” he waved his hands in the air, grasping for a foreign term, “some pet project. And if I focus on keeping him happy, then he won’t realize why we’re really here.”

_Pet project?…Is that what he’d allowed himself to become?_

_Fuck. Yes._

“Fine.” Raven came nose to nose with her twin. “But if you’re going to be watching him so much, I expect results,” she pointed a finger, pushing Qrow off center at the chest. “You said he’s skilled. You landed private lessons with him. Learn from him. If you don’t get results, then we’re moving to another academy.”

“But –“

“You’ve made too much noise here, Qrow,” Raven snapped. “You can’t stay out of trouble. _Everyone_ knows who you are. It’s the one thing we didn’t need. Learn something useful from Ozpin, or we’re done.”

Or _you’re_ done.

Now the discussion was over.

Fuck.

Qrow curtly nodded once, his cape fluttering in his wake.

***

Qrow was annoyed, agitated, and in general pissed.

How dare Raven question his motives? 

He _was_ committed.

…To their cause. Not Ozpin’s.

To their tribe. Not Ozpin’s school.

Qrow ground his teeth until his vision turned blurry.

He needed release. 

But he couldn’t start a fight. Not this close to the mission. Ozpin was already on edge from the disaster of the first run.

Fuck. Fine.

He’d find something else to distract him.

_Someone_ else.

A stark-white uniform past by him, and Qrow stopped mid-step.

The Vytal festival brought many students from the four kingdoms, but none were as annoying as the students from Atlas.

_We have a winner_.

There was something about their ridged no-nonsense attitudes that just rubbed him the wrong way. Could it have been their bland clothes? 

Possibly. 

Could it have been the fact that they bent over and took it up the ass from the military? 

Likely. 

Could it have been their complete lack of personality and a good sense of humor? 

_Most definitely._

They had no individualism whatsoever. Individualism, it seemed, was a toxic contagion that could infect anyone at the drop of a hat. They had already tried, with their overly stiff conversations.

_Well, in_ Atlas _we do it this way…_

Like hell Qrow would let them brainwash him into the same bullshit. 

He didn’t take orders blindly. He used people for his own benefit.

Self-preservation.

Survival.

_Naturally_ the students from Atlas showed no gratitude when Qrow attempted to show them a good time with some after curfew activities. Granted he was just blowing off steam, but they could have had fun with it.

But no.

In fact, they ran straight to their superiors and ratted him out like a little bitch. 

James Ironwood was the worst of all of them, always complaining a little _too_ loudly that Qrow "turned everything upside down and couldn't follow any rules - including gravity - if his life depended on it." 

That made things personal.

After all, Qrow couldn’t to disappoint when his reputation was on the line.

He turned on his heel and headed to the temporary dorms. A few well-placed favors had granted him some knowledge of the Atlas student dorms, but now he was only interested in the one.

Locks never an issue for the skilled delinquent, Qrow strolled into Ironwood's temporary quarters. It was going to take some work, but it would be worth it, and there was never any time better than the present.

_Welcome to Vale, asshole._

***

James Ironwood always prided himself in being a top student at Atlas Academy. They bred only the finest of soldiers; he would become the best of the best. A military masterpiece, one of his instructors had once dubbed him, Ironwood had always made certain to be top of his class in absolutely every aspect. 'Never stray, never disobey.' That was his motto. 

He could not bring himself to fathom the nerve of the students here at Beacon. They were loose cannons as far as James was concerned. They needed to be strapped down tight before someone got hurt - or worse.

James eyed a group of girls in Beacon uniforms as they scurried past him, giggling. He shook his head to himself as he reached his dorm door, the lock clicking out of place under a gloved hand. No, it was clearly time he stop wasting his efforts taming the wild beasts here and focus once more on his own studies. He had learned you must first perfect yourself before you can -

_Oh. Dear. God._

The left side of the _Congratulations! You were right Jimmy!_ banner had fallen slightly, but the bold red letters remained crystal clear. The floors and walls were spotless - absolutely pristine; however, that was where the joy ended because every last item in James's possession had somehow been adhered to the ceiling. Bed, dresser...undergarments. It was all on display in a disgustingly colorful mosaic, mocking the simple monotones James had come to appreciate.

Ironwood grit his teeth almost hard enough to crack one as he punched a hole through the wall to his right. 

If Beacon Academy was a den of wolves, Qrow Branwen was their commander.

***

Summer Rose followed Taiyang from the dorm buildings to the buzzing arena where the Vytal Festival was running at full energy. As promised, they stopped first at a snack vendor outside the arena.

“So what’re feelin’?” he asked, surveying the butter-glistened options. “Cheese is always a good flavor. I…I’m not actually sure what some of these flavors are.” He squinted at one option, caramel corn mixed with cheese, a hot pepper on the label as though to warn him off. His stomach flinched.

“What’s your sweetest flavor?” Summer asked.

The vendor cocked his head, glancing down. “The cinnamon sugar is popular, or the Tiger blend.”

“What’s in that one?”

“It’s caramel corn, dipped in dark chocolate, drizzled with white chocolate. Not for the faint of heart, missy.”

“That one,” Summer said firmly.

“Summer, you’ll be bouncing off the walls with that stuff,” Tai said, nevertheless handing his card to the vendor.

Summer merely flashed him a grin, taking the popcorn and then his hand, leading him away –

“Uh,” Tai said, as they turned away from the arena. “Summer, what are you –“

“We’re making a quick stop first,” she announced. “The popcorn is necessary.”

“If you think we can convince Raven with chocolate, I…I’ve tried that.”

Summer rolled her eyes. “Tai, I love you, but you’re sort of dense sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, this isn’t about convincing Raven,” she continued, pulling him along. “This is about convincing someone else.”

“Who…” Tai let the question fade, glancing up at the clocktower.

Summer pushed forward, all determination.

_”Ozpin?”_ he asked, stumbling as she pulled him too quickly. “You’re going to the headmaster for this?”

“It’s worth a shot,” she said. 

“And the popcorn?”

She turned her head to grin at him, shaking the popcorn. “He’s got a sweet tooth. Thought it might help.”

Tai shot her a dubious look. “He does? How do you know?”

“I just know. Come on, I don’t want to miss any more fights today.”

He followed her into the main hall, where she beelined for the main elevator, white cloak whipping behind her. 

“What if he won’t see us?” Taiyang asked. The entire idea was insane, he thought. Professor Ozpin had better things to do than listen to a couple of first-years bitch and moan about their teammates. “He’s probably super busy with the festival –“

“He’ll see me,” Summer said.

“You think so?”

The elevator pinged as it arrived on the ground floor; Summer popping in and immediately reaching for the topmost button. Tai swallowed; despite not being in trouble, he couldn’t think of going to the headmaster’s office for any _good_ reason.

He couldn’t imagine wanting to push that green button – so high above the others – even if Qrow triple-dog-dared him to.

The swivel of the camera made him jump; he turned wide eyes upward, flinching at the red light that flashed on.

The doors slid closed.

“Summer…”

“Relax, Tai. It’s fine.”

The intercom cackled to life.

“Miss Rose, Mr. Xiao Long,” came the headmaster’s mellow tones. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Summer said. “May we see you for a moment?”

A pause.

“May I ask what this is regarding, Miss Rose?”

“Our teammates.”

Another pause, in which Tai was _certain_ they would get nothing but a lecture and a rebuke for wasting the headmaster’s time –

The red light flickered to green, and the elevator began to rise.

“Holy shit,” Tai said.

Summer offered him a winning smile. “I told you.”

“Yeah, about that – you and Qrow see Professor Ozpin a lot, you know. I mean, I _know_ why Qrow has to come, he’s _helpless_. But you…”

Summer dropped her eyes.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m not.”

“So why the after hours visits?”

“I…I can’t tell you,” she said. “I’m sorry, Tai. Professor Ozpin asked for my word on that.”

“Team leader stuff?”

“…something like that.”

He could tell she was struggling between wanting to tell him – she was an open book, and a happy one at that – and keeping her word. The questions seemed to weigh on her.

“Look,” Tai said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “you don’t have to tell me, all right? I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she said, her smile returning. “Thanks, Tai.”

He nodded, the elevator slowing, the ping announcing their arrival.

Summer stepped out without fear, but Taiyang followed slowly, craning his neck as he took in the details of the headmaster’s office – a place only described by students unfortunate enough to get in way too much trouble. 

Qrow had told him about the floating gears in the ceiling, but the sight itself was far more impressive than expected, their ticking both soft and deeply reverberating, reflected in the polished silver floors, red afternoon sunlight washing over them from panoramic windows.

“Miss Rose, Mr. Xiao Long.”

Tai’s eyes shot to the headmaster’s desk – some monument of glass and steel and gears – where Professor Ozpin stood, motioning to two chairs opposite.

“Please, have a seat.”

Tai cleared his throat as though asked to give a speech, trying to mimic Summer’s easy manner, taking the chair beside her.

“Now, what can I do for you both?”

Tai looked at Summer for guidance. Even after spending an entire day with the headmaster in the field, Taiyang couldn’t relax around the guy. He never knew what Ozpin was thinking. Summer, Qrow – hell, even Raven was easy to read sometimes.

But Ozpin? Never.

“One of our team members is refusing to enter the Vytal Festival,” Summer said.

Ozpin’s brown eyes drifted from Summer to Tai, then back to the girl. 

“I see,” he said. “Just the one?”

“Well,” Summer conceded, “Raven spoke for Qrow, but I know he wants to fight.”

“Doesn’t he always? Well, Miss Rose, the tournament is strictly voluntary –“

“Oh!” Summer exclaimed, flying to her feet again, offering the popcorn forward. “I nearly forgot that we got you this.”

Ozpin paused, regarding the gift silently.

From beside him, Summer winked at Taiyang.

Yep, she was insane for thinking this would work.

“Ah,” Ozpin said at last, reaching for the popcorn. “I…well.”

Summer’s confidence seemed to magnify. 

“Thank you both,” Ozpin said, clearing his throat. “It’s a very thoughtful gesture.”

Even Tai caught the change of inflection, the very focused gaze the headmaster now offered the popcorn.

_Holy shit,_ he thought. _She was right about the sweet tooth._

“So about Raven,” Summer said.

Tai tried not to sigh. Sometimes she was as tactless as Qrow.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Miss Branwen.” Ozpin tore his eyes back his students. “I can talk to her, if you would wish, but somehow I don’t know that I be the influence to change her mind.”

Summer sank into her chair.

“What you need to convince her, Miss Rose, is not authority – it is the opposite. Give her a reason why fighting in this tournament benefits _her_. Not the school, not her team. Just…her.”

“She isn’t that selfish,” Taiyang blurted.

Ozpin turned curious eyes on him. “I don’t mean to imply that she is,” he said. “Merely that she comes from a hard life, Mr. Xiao Long. She values survival above all. Play to that angle, and you may find a way to convince her to participate.”

The headmaster fell quiet for a moment, hand absently reaching into the popcorn. “If you can convince her, I imagine Mr. Branwen will not pose the same difficulty.”

Summer giggled. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you seeing us.”

“It is my pleasure,” Professor Ozpin said, accepting her handshake. “I regret not being of more assistance. That said, Miss Rose, if this manner of bribe is utilized in the future, you may find me equally as willing to help.”

Summer grinned, pulling Taiyang from his chair. “Noted, sir. Have a good evening!”

Ozpin regarded them both with something like amusement in his eyes as they stepped back on the elevator.

“You’re absolutely crazy, you know,” he whispered. “Bribing the headmaster? _Crazy._ ”

As the doors closed, Tai could see Ozpin lean back in his chair, the chocolate popcorn in hand.

“You’re _both_ crazy,” Taiyang said. “My whole damn team is nuts.”

Summer only grinned at him.


	11. In which Qrow's temper gets the better of him, but Ozpin helps him find it again

Months into the start of the term, Qrow had grown accustomed to the shifty side glances from his peers as he passed by. He knew he was the rebel. He knew he was the outcast. Did he care? Not one bit. Aside from the windbags called teachers, his teammates, and one girl in class – Sapphire – no one ever bothered to speak to Qrow. 

He much preferred it that way. Cut through a lot of bullshit.

He knew the teachers and teammates primarily spoke to him out of obligation. It was a necessary function, and nothing more. Raven didn’t even talk to Qrow if she could help it. 

Sapphire, however…she was the only girl that had ever willingly initiated conversation with the rogue. And Qrow enjoyed it from time to time – not that he would ever admit that, nor that he often soared past her window on his nightly excursions. She was simple. Quiet. Nice. Calming almost. She didn’t judge him like the rest of the Beacon population.

For weeks Qrow had been dealing with students going quiet when he walked into the room. That was annoying. He would prefer just to blend into the background and be ignored. The constant wide-eyed stares, sudden silence, or sly comments just barely within earshot were starting to get to him. 

Knowing the upcoming dance was not going to bode well for someone that preferred seclusion to a room full of judgmental morons, Qrow decided it was in his best interest to invite someone that was just the opposite – cool, calm and collected. Raven was somehow going with Taiyang, however the fuck _that_ had happened. Summer was asked out a week ago by some stupid study buddy. So Sapphire it was. 

Maybe after he had a bit of that booze Ozpin pretended not to keep in his office, to settle his nerves.

Qrow heard Sapphire’s voice before he even rounded the final corner to her dorm room. 

He smiled. 

_None of his other peers made him smile._

Whatever that meant.

“I told you. I don’t like Qrow.”

Qrow stopped short, surprised by the vehemence in Sapphire’s voice.

"He’s just _so_ weird,” another girl said, her voice high and proud. “I mean, have you seen him and his sister? Both freaks. And he’s hardly in school! What’s he always doing?"

"His sister,” a male voice retorted. “She’s the only one that can stand him."

The laughter made Qrow sick. And annoyed.

"Except _Sapphire,” _the girl announced. “She always tries to go out of her way to talk to him. _Every day.”_ __

__The laughter was less enthused now, laced with awkwardness._ _

__“Why _do_ you talk to him?”_ _

__Finally, Sapphire found her voice again. “I just…I’m a little scared of him, you know? I don’t want him to snap and hurt someone…”_ _

__“I _told_ you she has a crush on him!”_ _

__“No!” Sapphire’s protest was desperate. “I…I mean, he’s not normal, is he? He’s…too wild. He’s kind of… creepy and… I just couldn’t like someone that violent.”_ _

__The awkward silence grew at the confession._ _

__“You got the creepy part right,” the snobby girl said. “Seriously though. That guy is _super_ weird. I heard he was raised in the _wild_ with his sister. I bet they’re _diseased!”__ _

__"Probably,” the boy said, a shrug in his tone. “And I heard he has some bizarre mutation so he’s always running off because he can't control it. Maybe it isn't really the Grimm we should worry about. _RAWR!_ ”_ _

__There was a scurrying sound of moving feet, as though the boy had jumped at the girls._ _

__"Oh, stop it, Cobalt. He’s weird but I doubt he’s going to prove your stupid Were-Grimm theory."_ _

___Cobalt Bronson, from Team CPRS. A familiar bag of dicks._ _ _

__"It’s true though! He’s always gone, always grabbing his shoulder. His mutation is _growing._ He’ll infect us all if we don’t lock him up as soon as possible. Maybe if we study him we can learn the origins of Grimm."_ _

__"Yeah! We talkin’ Were-Grimm?” A new voice joined them, the clap of an enthusiastic high-five. The new boy immediately broke into excited chatter._ _

___Troy fucking Royale._ _ _

__Would that asshole _ever_ curl up and die?_ _

__“We can dissect him! Pull his limbs off one by one to study, leave the bloody stumps. See how well he keeps running off then. Better pull the teeth too. Can't have him biting anyone and risking contamination.”_ _

__“Gross!”_ _

__“You really shouldn’t say those things…” Sapphire’s objection was quiet, timid._ _

__“Just ‘cause you’re scared of him, doesn’t mean we have to be,” Cobalt reasoned._ _

__“Yeah,” Royale said. “He isn’t anything special. He wouldn’t even fight in class last week. Fag took a walk with the Headmaster instead. Probably trying to do a ‘favor’ so he could stay in school. Branwen’s all bark and no bite.”_ _

__“Totally!” the girl agreed. “I mean, have you _seen _the size of his sword? What’s he compensating for? He must have a _really_ tiny - ”___ _

____Qrow ground his teeth until it hurt._ _ _ _

_____Creepy?_ _ _ _ _

_____Violent freak?_ _ _ _ _

_____They haven’t seen violent yet._ _ _ _ _

____Qrow desired nothing more than to ram each and every one of their superficial conniving skulls into the ground - or better yet, fly them up to the mountain tops and slice their pretty little necks over the Grimm nests below to watch young Nevermores boil into a bloodthirsty frenzy in attempt to rip the flesh from the students’ bodies bite by bite._ _ _ _

____Shaking with rage, the observer took solace in his abilities._ _ _ _

____He would set this right. Qrow would give them exactly what they wanted at nightfall._ _ _ _

_____One by one…_ _ _ _ _

____Walking purposefully past the corridor where his prey was loitering, he made eye contact with each of them._ _ _ _

____The raucous chatter died, the group turning eyes on him as one. Sapphire looked pained to see him._ _ _ _

_____Good._ _ _ _ _

____“Nine o’clock,” he growled at them. “Rooftop of the second dorm building.”_ _ _ _

____Silence followed the challenge. Royale raised an eyebrow, as if the dick was bored by the idea. Cobalt snorted._ _ _ _

____“You really want to do this?” he asked._ _ _ _

____“Scared I’ll bite?” Branwen snapped._ _ _ _

____“Qrow…” Sapphire hesitated, eyes dropping._ _ _ _

____“Don’t bother showing up,” Qrow snapped at her. “I want a _real_ fight and you’ll just slow them down.”_ _ _ _

____Qrow walked off, the rage inside him evolving. Still it burned, hotter than ever, but now he was lighter, daydreaming with each step the feeling of the boys’ stupid faces against his knuckles._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____Qrow waited on the rooftop for an hour before the fight. He was certain Bronson and Royale were too stupid to lie in wait and trap him._ _ _ _

____Which is precisely why Qrow would do it to them._ _ _ _

____After all, he never promised it would be a _fair_ fight._ _ _ _

____The echo of voices indicated their arrival. Qrow tensed, crouched in the darkness outside the stairwell. He was unarmed; he didn’t give a shit if his prey had weapons._ _ _ _

____This wouldn’t take long either way._ _ _ _

____Royale was the first to show his face, glancing around the rooftop._ _ _ _

____“He’s not here yet,” he said. “I’ll bet money the asshole doesn’t even show.”_ _ _ _

____The second body emerged and Qrow was on his feet, seizing Royale by the back of the neck, slamming his face head into the concrete stairwell. Qrow felt the vibrations of the contact in his fingertips, in his teeth, _delighted_ by how quickly Royale hit the ground._ _ _ _

____Then he raised his eyes to Cobalt Bronson._ _ _ _

____Qrow smirked at the fear in the boy’s eyes. He approached slowly, hunched shoulders ready to attack without notice._ _ _ _

____Cobalt backed away, glancing at the distance to the stairwell, where Royale had not moved, another obstacle between him and escape._ _ _ _

____“Look,” he said, putting his hands up as Qrow took another step toward him. “Let’s…talk this out?”_ _ _ _

____Qrow barked a laugh. “Oh, I think you already said _enough_ today, Bronson.”_ _ _ _

____“Come on, man, it was a joke –“_ _ _ _

____Waiting for his cue, Qrow struck before the terrified boy could finish the sentence. The useless sack of flesh dangled by the neck out over the sharp ledge of the building._ _ _ _

____Consistently saved by the grace of wings, Qrow had often pondered macabre questions - such as potential landings from lethal heights. Qrow took his sweet time strangling dear life out of his opponent while musing what portrait he would paint on the courtyard stone._ _ _ _

____Each throb of the fading pulse under the assailant’s grasp made him more excited._ _ _ _

____Qrow drank in each gasp of precious air, each struggle for life the boy made. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the morbid justice of the situation. Punctuating carefully and flashing his teeth between each word, Qrow seethed, “No. Bite. _Huh?”__ _ _ _

____A series of bright green sparks blinded him, then suddenly Qrow’s arm was wrenched back, the dangling boy colliding back with the rooftop with no small amount of force. The green lights stabilized beside the students –_ _ _ _

_____“Mr. Branwen,”_ Professor Ozpin said, his voice firm but breathless. His grip on Qrow’s arm only tightened until the student released his victim, who collapsed coughing and sputtering incoherent accusations._ _ _ _

____“Ferra, see Mr. Royale and his friends to the hospital wing, please. I shall send for you when necessary.” Ozpin didn’t move his eyes from Qrow’s face, his tone quiet and final._ _ _ _

____Professor Agrios, who had only just appeared on the rooftop, moved her eyes over the scene before her. If she was surprised, she showed none of it, merely nodding once and kneeling to help the half-strangled boy upright._ _ _ _

____“Mr. Branwen,” the professor said again, his voice scarcely above a murmur, his hand a vice around Qrow’s wrist. “I’ll have you know that despite my fondness for you and my habit of looking the other way regarding your frequent rule-breaking, murder is one offense beyond any of my indulgences. Do I make myself _perfectly_ clear?” Without waiting for a response, Ozpin released him. “My office. Now.” So saying, he turned on his heel and walked away, as though daring Qrow to disobey._ _ _ _

____Rage and anger threatened to subside, serving only to make the teen more infuriated. Qrow had every right to be angry and he sure as _hell_ was not going to let getting caught stop his temper. _ _ _ _

____But he did acknowledge murder would get him expelled._ _ _ _

____Maybe jail or something like that too, but he was fairly confident he could escape that sentence. Still, a life on the run was momentarily a possibility in the heat of the moment._ _ _ _

____The deep bruise blossoming from the vice grip on a brittle avian bone told Qrow he needed to pick his battles – and the headmaster was one person he should not pick one with._ _ _ _

____Not if he wanted to win._ _ _ _

____Then again, he had to play along as Raven said. Learn from Ozpin._ _ _ _

____This new knowledge again did nothing to quell his rage. He clenched his fist tight until he threatened to make himself bleed. The new knowledge did, however, convince him to follow. Even if he took a half beat longer than he knew he should have. Qrow was well accustomed to things not being fair, but that never stopped him from earning his form of justice before._ _ _ _

____He always won. That was how you survived in outside of the kingdoms. You fought. And you won. And his victory was being torn away from him._ _ _ _

____Power stripped._ _ _ _

____Hands tied, wings broken off._ _ _ _

____All of this, the young bird felt he could cope with for the short amount of time he would attend Beacon._ _ _ _

____Except for the fact that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the offending students would serve no time, serve no sentence. They wouldn’t get so much as a harsh word. He had turned them into the victims._ _ _ _

____Society loved those. _Victims.__ _ _ _

____Upon reaching the door, Qrow gracefully pried it from the broken hinge, freeing the entry way once more._ _ _ _

_____Is this really worth it?_ _ _ _ _

____Qrow gazed glass eyed up at the starry night sky one last time before disappearing into the corridor to face his judge, jury, and executioner._ _ _ _

____The headmaster’s elevator allowed Qrow passage without prompting identification, as was the now familiar habit. Qrow sighed as it pinged at the top floor, hesitating just a moment before stepping off. The room seemed empty at first, save for the headmaster’s desk and the old chess set; only after Qrow took a few steps inside did the professor appear to materialize beside him, likely from the hidden apartment both pretended did not exist._ _ _ _

____“Have a seat, please,” Ozpin said, his voice neutral. He placed a mug before Qrow, the smell of herbal tea rising from it. The headmaster sat as well, placing his ever-present coffee on the desk and reaching beneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, an almost shocking act of weariness from a man who never showed anything of the kind._ _ _ _

____Just as quickly the emotion was gone, and Ozpin leaned forward to move a chess piece._ _ _ _

____“Pawn to E4,” he said. “Your move.”_ _ _ _

____Qrow stared at the chess board for a moment before gazing curiously back at the headmaster. The atmosphere was tense, full of suspicion. Qrow was wise enough not to lower his guard just yet. He knew his temper would not diffuse anytime soon, regardless of the headmaster’s diversions._ _ _ _

____And yet the student complied silently, moving a corresponding black chess piece._ _ _ _

____The headmaster seemed satisfied by Qrow’s compliance, a hint of a smile on his lips as he reached for another pawn._ _ _ _

____Ozpin won the game in eighteen moves._ _ _ _

____“Your anger shows in your strategy,” the headmaster said. “It makes you predictable.” He quietly set up the pieces anew._ _ _ _

____“Again,” he said, moving his pawn to E4, mimicking the last game. “Try to leave me guessing.”_ _ _ _

____Qrow reached for a piece, but before it left the board, Ozpin spoke again._ _ _ _

____“What did they say earn your violence, Qrow?”_ _ _ _

____The student dropped his pawn, his face contorting with anger._ _ _ _

____“They got under your skin,” Ozpin said. “They provoked you, just as I am now. It may not be the same tactic as attempting to strangle the life from another, but it is an act of war all the same. Tell me.”_ _ _ _

____As if commanded, Qrow’s skin crawled, prickling with tense energy… _fury._ The familiar sensation washed over the teen. _ _ _ _

____Silence fell._ _ _ _

____Qrow’s eyes narrowed to vicious slits, his left fist threatening blood. And his aura – that of an experienced, ruthless, and bloodthirsty predator. The room filled with the calm before a tethered storm._ _ _ _

_____“Act of war,”_ the teen pondered, reaching to pluck his toppled pawn from the table. He manipulated the piece as if languidly determining the cruelest demise. “I agree…but it doesn’t matter.” He shifted his gaze from the pawn in his palm to his headmaster, meeting Ozpin’s eyes evenly._ _ _ _

____“Some people are just _gifted._ Their manipulations fly under radars…like mine.” _ _ _ _

____Grinding teeth called for a moment’s pause._ _ _ _

____“You have a surprising number of skilled spies in your school, Ozpin. Masters of masks.”_ _ _ _

____Another pause as he considered the mentality of those he pulverized not long ago. “And the rest are too dumb to know who they shouldn’t fuck with. Call me a vigilante or villain, but they had it coming.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin raised an eyebrow, whether because of Qrow’s language or the student using his name so familiarly, it wasn’t apparent._ _ _ _

____He didn’t correct either._ _ _ _

____“I won’t force you to tell me,” Ozpin said, with an almost imperceptible shrug, “so long as you reflect on _why_ their words affected you so deeply. While Mr. Royale and his friends may not wish a repeat performance, they will recognize that what they said to you is an obvious weakness. What I do demand, Qrow, is that you will not so easily and violently snap when met merely with words.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin took his time choosing a piece, his fingers lingering, as though he doubted his move._ _ _ _

____“Of course I will speak with Mr. Royale himself – once he is conscious – and determine the appropriate judicial actions for him and Mr. Bronson. I have no doubt they will be quick to defend themselves. Are you so unwilling to do the same?”_ _ _ _

____The headmaster earned a scoff from the student. _“Unwilling_ to defend myself? …with words maybe.” Qrow rolled his eyes closed and groaning in frustration. Nothing was ever simple with the headmaster. It was never just detention, just punishment. He always demanded analysis. It was agitating as hell. _ _ _ _

____On top of that, the headmaster just called Qrow a verbal weakling._ _ _ _

____Another heavy sigh opened the crimson eyes. “It wouldn’t do any good to defend myself with words. They didn’t know I was listening to the shit they were spewing out until I showed up.”_ _ _ _

____“Doesn’t that make it more vital?” Ozpin offered gently. “That they thought there was no consequence to their words, so that they would remove the safety of their masks?”_ _ _ _

____Another reflective pause, Qrow at a loss for accurate descriptions, “Look, I suck with words.” Qrow searched the chess board carefully. “I thought I found a queen in a bunch of pawns. Just turns out she wasn’t the on the same side as me. When the fog cleared, she was white, not black.”_ _ _ _

____The teen fidgeted in a mixture of obvious emotional restlessness. Last time he was prepared to open up he had almost killed multiple students by the end of it. Apprehension had him preparing for the next onslaught. His body subconsciously tensed for battle._ _ _ _

____The headmaster pressed his lips together as though he knew precisely what Qrow was talking about, but he said nothing, allowing the student to continue without interruption._ _ _ _

____“She was conspiring with white pawns the whole time. In fact, I don’t think she was even a queen. She was just another pawn trying to make her way across the board into enemy territory. Unseen. Underestimated. Until she could stab me in the side and…”_ _ _ _

____Qrow shook his head, too mixed up in the analogy. “Until she could become the queen she wanted to be and crush the other side like she is supposed to. While I was focused on her, the other pawns took hits at my team, and went after my king…”_ _ _ _

____Qrow lost track of his analogy, unsure of who his king even was, shaking his head as if to clear the fog once again. “Look, whatever. Just ignore it. I learned my lesson: don’t try to kill other students.”_ _ _ _

____“I see,” Ozpin said quietly. “This young lady – your mistaken queen – was your friend. Perhaps something more than that? May I presume this is your first heartbreak?”_ _ _ _

____The words cut into Qrow._ _ _ _

____He would never have chosen those words to describe what he was experiencing. Feeling betrayed his headmaster seemed to sense a weakness within the student, Qrow glared at him before turning his gaze to the massive window. He was sick of people thinking he was weak. The headmaster himself had declared it was unwise to lay out on the table._ _ _ _

____“Regardless of the label,” the headmaster continued, “the pain is real enough. You allowed yourself to trust this girl, and she repaid you with cruelty. That was wrong of her, but it was not wrong of you. There are people in the world one should learn to treat with caution – Mr. Royale, for example, seems like a rather unpleasant young man – but to avoid _the world…_ well. I sincerely doubt that sort of mindset lends itself to a truly satisfied life. Qrow, the lesson here isn’t one about violence; it’s one of trust – although of course, do avoid future attempts of murder, if you please.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin lifted his own queen with a faint smile. “You’re your own king, Qrow. If your queen isn’t acting in your protection, perhaps it is best to allow her to be taken.”_ _ _ _

____Stupid, senseless, fucking emotions crept up within the student. He couldn’t seem to think straight. He simply knew he must squash everything with a swift blow._ _ _ _

____“They can have her. I want nothing to do with her. I don’t need a queen. I’ll take the whole side on piece by piece if I have to. They will figure out not to fuck with a _black king.”__ _ _ _

____The student rose, signifying his intent to end the game early. Glancing down at the pieces, he picked up his own king and knocked his queen off the board. A bow to the fallen piece had the boy smirking in malicious mockery. “Your highness,” Qrow made eye contact with Ozpin once more._ _ _ _

____“Feel free to have your way with her, dear opponent.”_ _ _ _

____With that, Qrow straightened and turned to exit speaking over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I won’t trust anyone without the fog clearing…”_ _ _ _

____“Qrow!” The headmaster rose from his own chair, his voice sharp. With no warning but a flash of green light, Ozpin was in front of the student, his hands on Qrow’s shoulders, firm at first, as if to keep him from leaving; but the grip relaxed quickly, professor pulling student close against him, softness used as a weapon against anger._ _ _ _

____“Please stay,” Ozpin murmured. “You have my word that I would never use these emotions against you.”_ _ _ _

____Paralyzed, the teen had no response. His mind blank, body unable to respond, Qrow simply stood there in the embrace. After what seemed an eternity, but in all likelihood was a mere minute, Qrow noticed a wet spot on the headmaster’s black jacket. Another minute passed before he realized the spot was growing due to his eyes. Ashamed, he twisted out of sight wiping his face in feigned exhaustion._ _ _ _

____“Okay. Got it. Lesson not over,” Qrow said. Unable to meet the professor’s eyes, the student kept his back to the man as he resumed his seat._ _ _ _

____“Perhaps,” Ozpin said, his voice a note lighter, “we both require something a touch stronger than tea and coffee tonight.” So saying, he resumed his seat, pulling a green leather-wrapped flask from his coat pocket. With a flick of his wrist it was open, their mugs swallowing the amber liquid._ _ _ _

____In the silence, the headmaster’s scroll beeped a lively tune. Ozpin lifted a finger to his lips, sandwiching the device between his ear and shoulder as he closed the flask and returned it to the hidden depths of his coat pocket._ _ _ _

____“Yes, Ferra, good evening,” he said, his voice still light. “Thank you, I’m glad to hear the students will recover. Yes, I would like to see all of them in the morning. Separately. Thank you. Mr. Branwen? Oh, that’s quite taken care of. Yes, I’m sure. Mmhmm. Yes. Thank you, Ferra. Good night.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin ended the call despite a voice still audible on the other end, his smile a mask Qrow had long ago recognized._ _ _ _

____“Professor Agrios,” Ozpin said, by way of obvious explanation. “Your classmates will survive, more or less, in order to face the consequences of their actions. She asked about you. She seemed quite worried about you. Or rather,” he added, his tone amused, “worried about my pardoning you. Rightly so, I’m afraid.”_ _ _ _

____Against his will, Qrow’s eyes met the headmaster’s and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Pardoning me?” he questioned in disbelief._ _ _ _

____Ozpin must have lost his mind. Or his classmates were more dangerous than he gave them credit for and _Huntsman_ was perhaps a synonym for _murderer._ Somehow Qrow was more inclined to believe the first. He couldn’t see Ozpin raising generations of murderers smart enough to elude military. Not with half of their instincts and lack of basic common sense. _ _ _ _

____“You’re going to let me go?” Qrow gulped in air as if he had been deprived. “I … I’m not expelled?…I’m not going to be locked up?” Praying this were not a case of false hope, Qrow felt his chest tightening in apprehension. If this were a joke, truly it might surpass the cruelty of the pretenses thus far._ _ _ _

____“Expelled?” Ozpin sounded surprised in return. “For attempted murder?”_ _ _ _

____He caught himself mid-chuckle. “Well. Perhaps that joke is in poor taste. The absolute truth of the matter is, Qrow, I don’t condone your actions tonight. In fact, I can’t even say I’ve forgiven them quite yet. But I do understand your motivations, your emotions. Most of all, Qrow, I’ve decided to trust you. I trust that with my saying that your actions tonight were unacceptable, you won’t repeat them. I trust that you will give your reaction some serious consideration so that whatever fuel your classmates used against you will no longer wound you; or if it does, you will choose to come to me and talk it over rather than rely on your admittedly capable fists. I trust you, and I hope you can trust me in return. Am I wrong in placing that hope upon you?”_ _ _ _

____Qrow’s eyes darted rapidly back and forth searching for the correct response, but there was an undeniable hope and excitement in the gesture. “I…can’t guarantee I won’t fuck up again. But I can try. I _will_ try. Not to, I mean,” the student stammered, finally raising his eyes to meet those of his headmaster. This time the student spoke with assertion and determination, “I don’t want to let you down.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin’s lips parted and then closed just as quickly; instead of speaking immediately, he reached for his mug, contemplating the contents. “That’s very candid of you. Thank you, Qrow. All I can ask of you is that you try in earnest. Mistakes that teach are merely stepping stones in the desire to grow.” He sighed and sipped his long-cold coffee. “I have many students that demand my attention, Qrow. Hundreds. I won’t lie and say that you aren’t a bit…trying of my patience at times. But I would not spend my little spare time with you if I did not consider it well worth the effort.”_ _ _ _

____Formalities often confused Qrow due to his upbringing outside the kingdoms; this instance was no exception. Wondering whether the statement was a compliment or a polite insult, Qrow pondered for an extended moment. “You…still deal with me even if you don’t want to, but because it’s your job.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin raised his eyebrows, but Qrow pushed on._ _ _ _

____“My skills make me a great hunter but…” His words drifted off for a moment in thought. “You’re saying I am supposed to be a ‘diamond in the rough’? Because I have to admit, I don’t think I am going to smooth out very well.”_ _ _ _

____Ozpin was silent for a moment, regarding the discarded chess pieces on the desk. “It might be easier to put the pressure upon you, to force the reaction – as you say – toward forming a diamond. Some students flourish under such conditions. Some, like graphite, crumble beneath them, never to recover. I don’t believe in such black and white conditions. Life is not a chemical reaction, nor a chess board. I don’t wish to break you, Qrow, or sculpt you into a champion against your will. However you choose to grow into adulthood, I would prefer you do it naturally, under your own aspirations and individuality. I only hope that my influences give you some direction of what would make you most happy with yourself._ _ _ _

____“I have the strongest professional belief in you. I would not have accepted you into Beacon otherwise. But I hope,” the headmaster added, “that I have never given you reason to think that my time spent with you is anything less than a personal faith in your abilities and your character, and pleasure in your company.”_ _ _ _

____Such a personal response made the student uncomfortable, although he could not identify why. A long gaze out the massive window clued the youth on the hour at hand. True, Ozpin would likely not bother explaining the details to most students in the middle of the night. Qrow could attest to that simply by the amount of times he had caught Ozpin entertaining students in his office – which aside from Qrow and Summer, was never unattended by another party. A heavy sigh and he returned his gaze to the older man._ _ _ _

____“Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____Such a simple statement, but such meaning._ _ _ _

_____Thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for sticking with me even though I’m a pain in the ass. Thank you for not turning me away…_ _ _ _ _

____Qrow cut off his own internal thought process, unwilling to further entertain emotional analysis._ _ _ _

____“You’re very welcome. Now then,” Ozpin said, the monitors of his computer suddenly aglow, “let us ensure you have a safe place to visit should another…incident like this threaten.” A numerical menu appeared, the headmaster counting as he tapped the digits. “7-7-6-9.”_ _ _ _

____Qrow stared, not following the joke._ _ _ _

____A small smile tugged at Ozpin’s lips. “Q…R…O…”_ _ _ _

____Qrow continued to stare, but now with some amount of horror. The old man had lost it._ _ _ _

____“There you are. Your own private access code to my elevator. It will take you directly here when you enter it, even if I am not present.”_ _ _ _

____Qrow watched the numbers set up his newfound access. Perhaps the professor truly had lost his mind; the teen had, after all, just attempted murder, and here the headmaster welcomed him into his private office free of supervision and restraint._ _ _ _

____“You’re insane,” Qrow blurted._ _ _ _

____Ozpin chuckled. “You’re not the first to call me so,” he said._ _ _ _

____A sigh had the student rising, recalling the doubt of the older man’s mindset. “I am not sure why you trust me like this…” Qrow said, turning to leave. “But thanks again.”_ _ _ _

____“Trust,” Ozpin remarked, “is a manner of faith, which by definition needs no reason for its existence. And now,” he added, “I think it best you retire for the evening. Rest, reflect, and be better for what has happened today.”_ _ _ _

____Hyped from the battle, yet exhausted from the emotional events of the last hour, Qrow exited the headmaster’s office. The boy was either doomed to a sleepless night or late classes in the morning due to being dead to the world. He couldn’t care which as he made the final turn to punch the down button, stealing one last glance at Ozpin before the doors closed him into the elevator._ _ _ _


	12. In which Qrow avoids a school dance and sees a little of the man behind the curtain

With the academic year ending and the dance kicking into high gear, Qrow had little to be excited about. The year had proven to be of little success considering his near expulsion, arrest, and detainment. 

The dance sounded even worse.

As though it mattered. Professor Ozpin had suspended Qrow from any school functions for the rest of the year (“I really should show Professor Agrios I listen to her once in a while,” he had remarked to Qrow); so Qrow couldn’t have gone even if he wanted to.

Not that he wanted to.

Dateless, almost friendless (Raven _still_ didn’t count), the boy was thankful he could avoid the event altogether.

Quite certain the rest of the school echoed his sentiments, Qrow avoided the crowd by escaping to the furthest confines, most calming location on campus: the headmaster's office. The student was already on edge, so some peace and quiet, the slow turn of the gears rotating gently above head, would prove precisely the remedy.

The elevator dinged in cheerful welcome to solitude. With Ozpin preoccupied at the dance, Qrow was thankful the headmaster had trusted him enough to provide a passcode. But trust meant responsibility. Trust meant Ozpin would know when the student was in his office; it meant if anything happened to Ozpin's office while Qrow was logged as present, Qrow was fucked.

Fortunately, it was a responsibility he was willing to shoulder for the evening if only for the sake of blissful isolation. The student approached the desk and boldly flopped down in the headmaster's chair. Qrow extended his arms as he spun about, simulating a spiraling flight.

Getting banned from the dance was the best punishment he could have asked for.

The student came to a halt and plopped his feet upon the grand desk before him. Stretching his arms behind his head, Qrow absorbed the power of the chair, the office, and the position. Smiling, he closed his eyes to soak in the moment.

***

The end of the year dance was an event of some minor inconvenience to Professor Ozpin. On the one hand, he enjoyed dancing as a hobby and would not mind the opportunity to indulge himself more often; on the other hand, this was a school dance, with students and faculty and far more chaperoning and forced small talk than dancing.

And Ozpin was tired. 

Every spring brought the end of the academic year, and with it the reminder he was another year older (so many years), worn down by a job from which he rarely took a day - or even an evening - off.

Tonight, he decided, hanging up on a rather antagonistic Ferra Agrios, he would take an evening off. He silenced his scroll before Professor Agrios could call him again, the screen going black. There was a shocking amount of liberation in turning his scroll off; now if only he could resist checking his messages on his computer. 

Unlikely.

He went to his dresser, removing his trademark coat and rolling up his green shirtsleeves, and poured himself a large whiskey nightcap. The he settled into his armchair with a book he had begun reading at the beginning of the school year.

His attempts at relaxation lasted for no more than thirty minutes; the whiskey disappeared but he recalled none of the plot of the novel. Professor Filemont had already dropped unsubtle hints about Ozpin returning the book. 

Perhaps it was not meant to be.

Opzin rose and poured another whiskey, the lure of work messages in the next room beckoning. 

_Perhaps just a glance._

He took the glass with him, stepping into the dark office –

\- to find the lights on. 

And spinning in Ozpin's chair, rather gleefully, the headmaster mused, was his star trouble-making student. He paused, watching Qrow spin, enjoying his student's joy. 

"If you sit in it properly," Ozpin remarked, "you'll find it's quite ergonomic."

***

"Ergo-wha?" the student questioned the sudden voice, but failed to finish the sentence without crashing to the ground. Somehow, the chair made all of the noise and the boy bounced back up without a scratch. He surveyed the chair with a small frown before uprighting his new battleship, teleporter, and throne with a smile. 

_Much better._

Only then did it dawn on Qrow the voice did not come from the computer, unless Ozpin was narcissistic enough to input his voice to his own computer. Internally cursing, Qrow slowly shifted his gaze to the headmaster, offering a small nervous chuckle. "It’s a nice spaceship," was all he had to offer. "Ergo...rotic?"

"Ergo _nomic,"_ Ozpin corrected. "It means it's designed to reduce stress on the spine when working long hours, which is something I seem incapable of avoiding. _Cogito ergo sum,"_ he added with a chuckle.

"No, no," Ozpin said, when Qrow offered the headmaster's chair back. "Please." Instead, the headmaster took the seat across his own desk, his mug echoing with a musical note as he put it down.

"I would ask why you're here," the professor mused, "but somehow I suspect it's for the same reason I am."

"To avoid all of humanity?" the student offered as he bent over and examined every angle of the chair, suddenly suspicious it might be rigged with an eject seat. Furrowed brows searched before turning to Ozpin. "Or just the dance. With the people. And the dancing."

Concluding he was either in for a surprise fun ride, or simply more lounging in the forbidden chair, Qrow resumed the headmaster’s seat. As entertaining as it was minutes ago, the atmosphere had shifted. He focused all of his attention on the professor before him... 

The relaxed, partially undressed, slightly giggly professor before him. 

_What. The. Hell?_

Qrow watched the smile in the headmaster's eyes, the graceful fingers reach for his usual mug -

 _Glass._

Qrow's eyes darted back to the headmaster's, then the student reclined at ease, and joined in the smiling.

"So what does 'cogito ergo sum' mean? And are you willing to share?" Qrow slipped the question in before he could talk himself out of asking. He put his shoes on the headmaster’s desk as though daring him to lecture Qrow, lights flashing on the computer because of the student’s carelessness. 

Of course Qrow should have been paying full attention; he would have noticed the loud error noise it was going to make accompanying the flashing lights. But the potential of alcohol was more interesting, and so Qrow was startled at the angry blare, the red glare of lights. Nearly falling for the second time in minutes, Qrow bolted to his feet making an impressive magician mime.

Alas, the computer was unimpressed, continuing protests. Ozpin rose and slipped behind the desk, tapping a code quickly to silence it. Once more, the screens went black and vanished, leaving only the slow ticking of the gears overhead.

"Do try to leave my office in working order, Mr. Branwen," the headmaster said, shaking his head with a smile. "Think of the lectures Professor Agrios would subject me to if I can't make my excuses for avoiding meetings ahead of time."

Ozpin resumed his seat opposite his own chair again, picking up his glass and giving the amber liquid some consideration. 

"To answer your first question, it means 'I think, therefore I am.’ To your second...well. It's been some time since I was your age, but somehow I don't think the legal drinking age has changed. Furthermore, the first time I offered you a drink, you spilled coffee all over my desk." 

"That was... _coffee."_ The young man couldn't even finish the statement without his face screwing into disdain - his tone insinuating the substance was lethal. Stealing one last glance at the glass, Qrow whispered under his breath, "And I’m eighteen..."

Ozpin merely raised an eyebrow at him.

Qrow clicked his tongue, _shame_ , and reclined shifting his glance to the gears above for a distraction. "'I think, therefore I am.' Sounds...complicated. If life’s all about perception, shouldn't you be able to perceive people out of existence?"

The question made Ozpin chuckle again.

"If only," he said wistfully. "Although in a manner of speaking, I suppose one could. For example, at this moment, in this office, there is no outside world. No Beacon, no dance, no other students. I prefer that for tonight, there is only you and I. And a bottle of whiskey likely older than your parents."

The headmaster sighed, placed the glass down, and slowly slid it across the desk toward Qrow.

"One sip," Ozpin warned. "And please spare my desk this time."

Eyes alight, the young man perked up as he reached for the glass. He could tell even before bringing it to his lips that this particular whiskey was far different from anything he had sampled before. The aroma was strong but warm, like fire-tinged caramel. Bringing the glass closer, he inhaled the precious scent, roasted almond and oak now, closing his eyes against the delicious sensory overload. Eyes opening, he smiled at Ozpin, raised the glass briefly in toast, before taking a long slow sip.

Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter, the warm liquid washed over Qrow. 

_Oh yes._

This was likely the best sensation he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Qrow carefully placed the glass back upon the headmaster's desk and gently, if a bit regrettably, slid the cup back to its rightful owner. He slouched in the chair and allowed the sensation to wash over him - the student still unwilling to finish swallowing the last bit saturating his tongue.

"I'm glad to see you appreciate it," Ozpin remarked, swirling the glass as though distracted. "It was a gift from a professor who retired some time ago, who thought it somewhat shocking I wasn't the same level of whiskey connoisseur he thought every academic ought to be. Quite thoughtful. Quite expensive. Ever since then, I have a glass at the end of the academic year. It's become something of a tradition."

The headmaster sipped the drink. "His son works for me now. I think he may be one of the teaching assistants you tolerate – Peter Port." 

The story concluded, Ozpin slid the glass back across the desk to Qrow.

“Yeah, Port’s all right,” Qrow said, reaching too eagerly for the glass. 

“Professor Port soon, like his father,” Ozpin said, almost to himself.

“You’re promoting him?”

“It would be a mistake not to,” the headmaster said. “He’ll be earning his certification next year, working for Professor Lesca.”

The student once more gleefully indulged in the liquor. Preoccupied by the delicious whiskey, Qrow remarked offhandedly, "His dad must have approved of younger drinking too if he gave this to you a while ago." 

“Oh, I feel my age these days,” Ozpin said. “I was…unusually young when I took the role of headmaster here.”

The tone was off, almost unwillingly shared, as though the achievement was something Ozpin was not proud of.

_…Then how old is he?_

Determining the risky question unwise at a time of gift receipt, Qrow let the thought pass for now.

"So if there’s no outside world right now, just us in this room..." The student's eyes flickered up to the headmaster's - a smirk tugging lightly at the corner of his lips. "…please tell me the bottle isn’t in the other room that doesn't exist?"

The headmaster laughed. "Perhaps we can perceive it back into existence, if only for a moment's convenience."

Once more he rose and leaned around the desk, fingers opening a small pad of buttons.

"Avert your eyes, if you please. If I have to keep changing my access codes, I'm likely to lock myself out of my own apartment one of these days." 

“Why do you keep it a secret you live in the tower?” The question escaped without thinking, the smooth whiskey tempting loose lips.

“Never you mind,” Ozpin said, but his voice was amused. “I rely on your discretion in that regard. Ferra has suggested for years that I never leave the tower; wouldn’t it be a tragedy if she discovered how frequently she is right about everything.”

“It’s safe with me.”

The headmaster smiled – a real one. The brief digital noises of the keypad echoed, and then the back wall shifted. Ozpin was gone for only a minute, returning with a dark bottle and second glass.

"The former Professor Port would have been delighted to see how loose my ethics have become tonight," the headmaster commented, taking his seat and opening the bottle. "He always thought I could do with a touch less rigidity."

The student's turn to laugh, he returned the glass once more to the rightful owner. 

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Existing. Whatever. You know, I thought I came here wanting to be alone, but suddenly, I am glad I'm not. Can't wait to see what other surprises your 'loose ethics' will reveal tonight."

"I may disappoint in that regard," Ozpin said. "Unlike you, I've never been gifted the art of mischief. Perhaps that's why I appreciate seeing in others, much to the chagrin of my long-suffering assistant. I am happy," he added, "that you're not entirely adverse to company. I understand the world has not always been welcoming to you, but it makes me glad that you have not yet given up on all of humanity."

"Although," the professor amended lightly, "I suppose I am the last person tonight who ought to lecture you on being properly sociable."

Feeling his senses dull a bit by intoxication, Qrow closed his eyes to enjoy a silent moment. "'Last' because we are the last two people on the face of the planet? Wouldn't that mean we can only socialize with each other?" Amused by his own logic, he completed the thought, "Which means we are both being upstanding citizens and socializing to the best of our abilities. A+ for the evening."

The chuckles faded as crimson eyes watched his headmaster filled the second glass for the student and gracefully pass it across the table. The man was simply fascinating; each tiny motion, comment, and deliberate gesture a paradox. Qrow could study him for years and likely still be curious.

Ozpin gave him a tiny smile, as though reading his mind, welcoming the study.

"You're more mischievous than you let on, Professor. Which is why you drive Agrios nuts. You just do it in different ways than I do.”

“Oh?”

"You're an enigma. Hard to read." A casual shrug of Qrow's shoulders. "Most people don't like that. It’s interesting."

"I'm glad to hear I never elicited your complete disdain," Ozpin said, amused, "despite the unreasonable demand that you follow my school's rules. Well," he added with a shrug, "the important ones, in any case. Poor Ferra. I strongly suspect she has a calendar counting down the days until her retirement. I do hope it's not as soon as she threatens. I'll be quite lost without her." 

The headmaster stared into his glass for an absent-minded moment, then roused himself back to the current conversation. 

“I never hated your company, Professor. The rest of the world? Fuck 'em. They don't need to like me, I don't need to like them. The tribe-… Humanity needs saving or whatever, but that doesn't mean I’m gonna to be their poster child while I do it."

"Ah, your great love for humanity," Ozpin said lightly. "You're perfectly correct: you need not love those whom you save. I hardly expect that. In fact, with your...strong personality, I doubt that you'll ever become a true extrovert. That's fine. I never did, and yet I would humbly label myself a competent Huntsman despite it."

”No, you’re an enigma,” Qrow repeated, the room swaying pleasantly around him.

"How flatteringly mysterious. I don't mind it. It keeps students and faculty alike in check. Or at a distance, I suppose, which tends to be for the best. You're in the minority in finding my riddles interesting."

"They’re fun to crack," the boy replied blatantly. "They make me want to watch closer, not run in fear of the unknown.”

“Ah,” Ozpin said, although his brows knit, as though weighing this remark more heavily than Qrow meant it.

"I never really feared what other people feared. Big stuff anyway." Another sip of liquid confidence kept the teen going. "I don't fear the Grimm. I don't fear the unknown. If I learn about it, then I know how to deal with it. Simple. That way I can kill it I have to."

“Yes,” the headmaster said softly, his eyes far away. “That’s the problem…”

“Problem?”

“No, nothing,” Ozpin retracted with a quick, easy smile.

A soberer Qrow might have read through the lie.

"What are you afraid of, Professor?"

The forced smile smoothed into something genuine on the headmaster's lips, amused at the challenge.

"What am I afraid of?" Ozpin repeated slowly, sipping his whiskey. He tapped his fingertips on the glass desk, thinking.

"I am afraid of failure. As a young man, I chose to devote my life to saving those in need. Later I chose to teach others to save those in need. I fear...that in some ways I will fail them. Whether that is through incompetent teaching, incomplete training, or personal flaws within myself...I fear that my failure will cost them their lives, or the lives of those they are unable to save. It is a fear always in my mind; it dominates every action I take, every moment I live.”

Ozpin's eyes wandered to the dark windows behind his desk. "I am aware it is impossible to protect all former students once they become Huntsmen. But it…” His voice drifted off for a moment before he cleared his threat and reached again for his glass. "I'll simply say that it never gets easier to hear."

“Hear what?”

Ozpin’s eyes flickered to his student and then back to his glass. “When they pass.”

Crimson eyes absorbing every nuance, the boy missed nothing. Although he could not sympathize, Qrow understood this... _feeling_ caused the headmaster great pain which seemed to age him greatly. The professor valued all lives while Qrow did not.

That meant something, but Qrow’s intoxicated mind grasped fruitlessly for it.

Qrow drank a healthy gulp. 

Two. 

If he were doomed for failure, so be it, but Qrow wasn't going to die because of it. "Well lucky for you, I’m hard to kill. Just ask the dozens of people and hundreds of Grimm that have tried."

Realizing too late his honesty should not have been so fully disclosed, the boy attempted to play it off as a joke, shielded in awkward laughter.

Ozpin stared at the student for a moment, then let out a cough, not quite fast enough to conceal his quiet snicker.

"I have no doubt in my mind, Mr. Branwen, that there is a veritable laundry list of people and creatures who would prefer you out of commission." He shook his head, not hiding the smile now. "I've seen firsthand this year that you're more than capable of protecting yourself. I'm glad of the fact. What would I do with my free time without all your trouble-making?"

"I guess you’d pick up a different hobby."

"I have my fair share of hobbies," the headmaster remarked. "Or rather, I say that I do. I have so little leisure time, I may simply think of them still as hobbies out of habit." 

He drained the last of his glass and met his student's eyes. "And you, Qrow? Do you have hobbies healthier than attempting to murder your classmates?"

Caught mid-drink, the teen nearly choked at the gravity of the question. It sounded amusing enough given the context, but Qrow could still sense Ozpin was holding back a temper he would not show the student. Qrow had struck a nerve earlier in the week, and he still had not felt as if he adequately got what most thought he had coming to him. 

Ostracized, sure. Feared among the students, sure. More heavily bullied by the 'strong ones', sure. Qrow dismissed all of that. 

But the faculty. He knew his time here was dangling by a far-stretched thread. 

Given the headmaster's personal fear, Qrow was surprised the damn thing didn't snap already.

But to ruin a buzz?

_Fuckin’ rude._

Qrow cleared his throat. He had to choose his words carefully. No more accidental reveals like _flying_ or _spying on you._

"I...like fighting." Qrow sighed heavily knowing that was neither a surprising answer nor an interesting one. "I like to win fights. I’m good at it. It's fun and it gives me results I want."

“Does it?” Ozpin interjected. “Are you satisfied with your results?”

_Fuck._

The conversation was not really about hobbies at all. Ozpin was attempting to disarm him. To discuss the events of the last week. Well, damnit, he could have all the talk he wanted. The boy was drunk enough off good whiskey to give the headmaster exactly what he wanted for once. Qrow defiantly met Ozpin's eyes. "I don't regret what I did. Would I do it again...?" 

A slow sigh. 

"No. But that doesn't mean I regret it."

Ozpin was silent for a moment, studying his student.

Qrow shifted under the stare.

"I won't ask you to regret your actions entirely," the headmaster said at length. "To be perfectly blunt, it was a lesson that perhaps I would have been unable to impress upon Mr. Royale myself - that the choice of one's enemies should be very carefully made. I have no doubt he and his friends will avoid your presence in the future."

"However," the professor continued, his voice lecturing, "that doesn't excuse you. Everything I said that evening still stands. For now, I will be satisfied that you will not repeat your actions. Personal feelings aside, Mr. Royale is just as much my responsibility as you are, and my duty is to keep you both safe while under my eye, even if from yourselves. Yes, you're quite talented in combat, but so are even my average students. This is a combat school. The training is required merely to apply. But for students of exceptional potential - Qrow, if I reiterate this lecture too often, it is because I hold you to higher standards." 

'Qrow,' he had said. Ozpin was personally pissed and Qrow was personally annoyed.

"I get it. I can't attack the students at this school.” The words, though drifting a bit due to alcohol, remained firm with clear intention. "But if someone comes after me first, then I _will_ defend myself and I won't restrain myself. I’m not a pushover, Professor.”

"Were you to become a pushover," Ozpin said, his tone softening, "that would simply trade one extreme for the other. If physical self-defense is required, I would expect nothing less from you. I only ask for you to differentiate between _that_ and bait meant to provoke you."

Ozpin sighed, the sound heavier than Qrow had heard from him before.

"Well. It's nearly the end of the academic year, and you have - nearly - avoided discussions of being expelled. That's close enough to a successful year. We're supposed to be celebrating that. Let us consider the matter closed, shall we?"

"Fine by me," Qrow said eager to shift topics. "So, back to hobbies?”

“Of course.”

“I like being outside, playing in water and poking shiny things."

"How very like your namesake," Ozpin remarked offhandedly, replacing the whiskey bottle's cap. "I think this would be a wise stopping point for our nightcaps. I sincerely hope my irresponsibility in indulging you won't cause an unpleasant morning."

"Unless we wake up naked on a roof, I highly doubt that. Takes more than this to give me a hangover." 

Filter officially dissolved, Qrow rose to stretch, refusing to give in to the sedative effects of alcohol. It was far too early in the evening to turn in. He approached the massive window to gaze out on the school grounds at the colorful ants twirling in the distance.

The headmaster coughed lightly. "I see that your language is not much improved under the influence," he said. 

Ozpin cast another glance at the whiskey bottle but opted instead to follow his student's lead in rising from his chair, an unknown joint giving a gentle _pop_ in the silence. 

"The consequences of old age," Ozpin said lightly, joining Qrow at the window.

Qrow laughed. "Come on, Professor, you’re not that old. Just gotta do things that make you feel young.”

“Oh, I don’t think – “

“You can't tell me you don't wanna get smashed and do something stupid sometimes?"

Qrow met the professor’s eyes, Ozpin’s expression some mixture of surprise and fondness.

 _Was Ozpin actually fond of him?_

The thought was as warm as the liquor in Qrow’s belly.

"You have to cut loose every once in a while, or else you go mad,” Qrow said, authoritatively. “I've seen it. Not just in people, in all living things. You have to...to play. Have fun. Break rules.” His elbow nudged the professor.

"And if you say letting my language slip is your version of fun, you _are_ beyond all hope. It's cute you think I talk to anyone for more than ten seconds though. Adorable."

Ozpin looked down at Qrow, his face showing his surprise at the student's familiarity. He looked away too quickly, as though to conceal his reaction.

"Yes, well," Ozpin said, with another fake, polite cough. "I think my time for such adventures has long passed me by. Living vicariously through others is perhaps the better option, even at the risk of your losing all hope in me."

"If you’re that far gone, you’re gonna have to pick someone that _really_ pushes boundaries. You might petrify otherwise.”

“How optimistic.” 

Both men stared out the window, stirring the remnants of their glasses in silence. 

Qrow spoke first, “Do you want to live through me?" 

“I…beg your pardon?” The headmaster’s expression of astonishment took too long to fade, his mask slipping with mutual intoxication.

Not even sure what he was offering, Qrow's agenda remained a mystery to them both. "It'll be hard for me to lose faith in you if I’m the one in control of your spontaneity..." 

Ozpin regarded the student, unable to keep his lips from twitching. "You, in charge of keeping me spontaneous?" he repeated, with a touch of mock incredulity. "I hardly know what to make of such a proposition. I think I'll regret asking what you have in mind. More unexpected drop-ins? Mysterious adventure invites over text?"

"Texts require me to have your number." 

This time the student was somewhat aware his words had a hidden meaning, but again, the full extent eluded him.

"I’m not in the habit of giving students my personal number.”

“I’m in the habit of taking what I want.”

Qrow’s stare was all drunken confidence. 

“Is that so.”

“Yep.”

Ozpin met his student’s eyes for a long moment.

“All right,” the headmaster said at last. "I'll agree to your...curious offer. On one condition. You're more than welcome to send me lessons in spontaneity if and only if you are able to procure my personal number on your own accord.”

“You’re serious?”

“Are you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then so am I. I hope you appreciate how difficult I intend to make this challenge."

The boy grinned. "Good. But no getting me into trouble if my lessons don't endanger lives. Can't teach you spontaneity if I’m worried about you giving me detention every five minutes." 

“You’re assuming you will be successful.”

“You’re assuming I won’t be.”

Ozpin broke their eye contact first, still smiling. “I am. Perhaps I will owe you an apology for it.”

“Don’t doubt it.”

Qrow resumed his position at the headmaster's side, gazing out the window. Below, students loitered outside of the arena, colorful dresses visible even this high. "What were your school dances like? Or did you avoid those too?"

"Oh, things were quite different when I was your age. We didn't have much in the way of organized school dances. I lived alone for a long time. But I did enjoy dancing as a hobby, and I was mildly charming enough to convince some young ladies to indulge me once and again."

“Popular with the ladies?” Qrow teased.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I had a few fond of me for reasons I still do not fully understand. They…deserved more than I could give them then.”

Ozpin paused, watching a few formally dressed students scurry about in the courtyard below. "Otherwise, I suspect you're correct. I kept to myself mostly. That hasn't changed after all these years."

Qrow laughed. "You know," he said, "that makes you sound really old. Especially how you describe it. How are you this formal with that much whiskey?"

“Perhaps I hold my liquor just slightly better than my teenage students,” Ozpin mused.

“Ha! Bet you another glass that isn’t true.”

Qrow glanced down to observe the dance attendees. He gestured to a couple that had run off to a secret location - of which the view from the tower was perfect. "See them? That would be us. Showing up because we have to, then ditching." He chuckled to himself until he saw the couple kiss. The smile dropped, his word choice regret was immediate and obvious. Qrow turned away from the professor and the window to clear his throat of nothing in particular - hoping desperately his blush was easily excused as a chemical reaction to the booze.

"Oh dear," Ozpin said, his voice clearly amused as he watched the young couple Qrow had indicated. "How perfectly scandalous. It seems the requirements of the dance are secondary to...other requirements. When will students learn that I allow no secrets in my school? Well. Let us grant them some semblance of privacy, just this once." So saying, he gently took Qrow's arm and lead him away from the window, back toward the desk.

"I hope you don't mind playing headmaster a little longer," Ozpin said, offering the student his chair once more. He paused, regarding the lure of the whiskey bottle once more, glanced at his watch, and let out a very small sigh. "I think I may like taking evenings off too much at the moment." 

"For fuck's sake, just have another drink. You work too much anyway."

Ozpin tried very hard to look disapproving at Qrow’s language.

“I’m quite certain I didn’t hear that.”

"Sure. I didn’t say a damn thing. So what do you mean you don't allow secrets in your school? You can't expect to know everything that goes on here." 

“Hmm,” Ozpin said, all meaning.

"Besides, if no secrets are allowed..." Qrow leaned forward in the headmaster's chair, propping his elbow on the desk, hands clasped with authority, "then I wouldn't be so curious about you, Mister...do you even have a last name?”

Ozpin merely smiled, letting the student ramble.

“Is that a secret too?”

"It's rare that anyone has reason to call me anything but 'professor'", Ozpin said, relenting to his student's foul-mouthed insistence. "Yourself included, Mr. Branwen."

“Professor. _Sir.”_

“Qrow. Sarcasm.”

Qrow rolled his eyes, spinning the the headmaster’s chair. “Did you always want to be a professor?”

"You're quite inquisitive tonight," Ozpin said. "If only you would utilize that natural curiosity in your coursework instead of directing it toward someone as unremarkable as myself."

"You're being evasive. As usual, I guess." The alcohol wearing to a buzz had the teen watching Ozpin take a slow sip from the glass. He tore his eyes away, knowing he would be shot down upon request for more.

“My statement stands.”

"Being remarkable...I don't even know what that means, but like I said: you’re the most interesting thing on campus. Call it personal taste or whatever, but I prefer you. Probably for same reason - or maybe because you never kick me out of the office." 

A more serious tone settling on the student, he wished he hadn't ruined the light mood. But he could bounce back quickly.

"I always wanted to be an air pilot." As if to accentuate that statement, Qrow kicked off of the ground and spun in a circle. "Diving through the air, going wherever I wanted in or out of the kingdoms. Really lets you see a lot in the world. And I want to see it all." 

“Why didn’t you pursue it?”

Qrow scrunched his nose in displeasure. "The whole military thing, I guess." 

“And your sister,” Ozpin said quietly.

“Yeah. She…she was part of it. So I gave up. Found another interesting way to satisfy that craving for adventure and settled on Huntsman." Cheery, tipsy smile back in place, the boy halted the chair to face Ozpin once more.

Ozpin chuckled, watching the boy spin in the usually intimidating headmaster's chair. 

"Ah, yes, the military. A commendable organization with commendable aspirations, but it does have a very different idea of discipline and acceptable behavior than what I demand here. Huntsmen are creatures of freedom in the world; it seems a shame not to encourage that sort of individuality in Huntsmen-in-training." 

"That and if you tied me down and forced me to submit, the school might not survive." A playful grin graced the student's lips. "We both know the military couldn't handle me. You on the other hand..." Qrow took two seconds too long sizing the professor up. "You seem to be doing okay."

Another serious note to the evening spread across the room. "You wanted to know my fears. Confinement. You know this already. You thought about it - house arrest - when I was in trouble, but you knew I would eventually raise hell. You're smart, Ozpin. Not because you think I'm dangerous. You care enough to bother to learn how to let me learn. Military would just want to lock me away for good, or kill me trying."

Ozpin said nothing, but his face suggested agreement; he was the first to look away, nimble white fingertips leaving marks on his glass. Qrow found those fingerprints somehow important, somehow profound, but he didn’t know why. 

_That was Ozpin himself,_ Qrow thought. Profound for reasons Qrow couldn’t understand.

Not yet.

Qrow crossed the room to resume his seat at the headmaster's desk. "How old are you anyway?"

Ozpin paused, his glass at his lips. After a moment, the headmaster took a long sip, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I stopped having birthdays a long time ago," he said. "After a certain number of years, one doesn't quite look forward to them in the same manner." 

Another sip, a small shrug of the shoulders. "In fact, my birthday is entirely absent from my personnel files. Ferra asked once, when we had a small celebration for another faculty member. She was quite annoyed when I declined to give her even the date..."

"Why do people celebrate birthdays anyway? I never understood it. I mean I see it..." the student trailed off fiddling with his own empty glass absentmindedly. "But I don't _get_ it. Everyone is born. Why does everyone have to think they deserve a special day for being the same as everyone else?"

"The future - and growing older - can cause some manner of anxiety. It's frightening, the thoughts that come with getting older. Responsibility, adulthood, mortality...if we celebrate each new year of life, it reminds us of everything we still have to look forward to. It reminds us that life should be celebrated more than lamented.

"So," Ozpin said, with another shrug and another drink, "I do understand why Ferra wished to know. But I'm afraid in this instance I am something of a hypocrite." 

Taking note of the correlation between alcohol and the considerably looser-lipped professor, the boy continued, "You don't want anyone to celebrate your life and give you something to look forward to?"

Ozpin chuckled. "You make me sound so very cold. Do you suppose I should reveal it? I don't think I will tell Ferra - it would be so very out of character for me to oblige her after so many years of disappointment."

He swirled his glass absently, looking at the student with his head slightly cocked. "I could tell you, but I'm inclined to make you guess it first."

A flitter of a smirk covered quickly by intense analysis of the older man. Qrow absorbed every detail he already knew - Ozpin was fair-skinned; he enjoyed the cold to the heat; he dreaded removing layers, much preferring to remain bundled to stay warm... 

"Winter?" the student pondered aloud - the question a half statement.

Ozpin shot the student a glance, one eyebrow raised. 

"I would accuse you of a lucky guess," he said, "but somehow I don't think that's fair. Yes, it is in the winter."

Qrow let out a snicker of approval at his victory. But now the harder part - what month? Ozpin didn't strike Qrow as a late winter. However much life the man sparked in others, he was far too secluded, in a constant state of hibernation, to resemble February. "December or January?"

Ozpin's smile was secretive. "Curious," he said, "to only give me two options. But not incorrect. January."

Qrow seemed to coo with self-admiration - his skills had indeed improved. "Do I get a hint for the day? Cause that one will be a lot harder and we might be here a while...not that we have anywhere else to be."

Ozpin took another sip of whiskey. "I'll allow a hint," he said. "It falls upon an even number."

The boy sighed heavily in contemplation. While that eliminated half of the possibilities, he still had fourteen chances to get it wrong. Calculating a shot in the dark for high or low, he chose a mid-number: "Sixteenth? High or low?"

"A good method of elimination," the headmaster remarked. "Lower."

Qrow's eyes followed the command instead of his brain. Catching himself only once he reached Ozpin's shoes, he drug his eyes back up to the headmaster's. "Eighth?" The boy, now sobering up, had perfect eye sight as he watched every movement from the other man. Everyone had tells. If Qrow were going to learn how to figure out when the man were lying, he would have to be able to read when Qrow was getting close to the truth.

Ozpin gave the boy a long look over his glass. "Now that, " he said, "absolutely was a lucky guess. Congratulations, and would you please keep the information from Ferra, should it ever arise in conversation."

"I won't tell anyone.” Qrow swallowed, a bit nervous for some odd reason with this newfound trust. Ozpin certainly was generous with it given the teen's troublemaking habits. "But I might make you remember why it's good to be alive that day..."

“I am concerned that is not a lie.”

"Ozpin, why do you trust me so much? I mean... I haven't exactly given you a reason to trust me. The other teachers say the opposite."

Ozpin laughed. "I'm sure they do," he said, "and I'm not sure they're wrong. But I rely a good deal on my intuition, Qrow, and it tells me that your behavior is rebellious _because_ no one will trust you. I'm giving you these responsibilities because I believe, despite your questionable morality, you're a very honest person, and you've told me that you would not betray my trust." 

Speechless, the student did not know where to drive the conversation next. The unexpected candid moment caught the boy off guard. No one had been so open...so blindly trusting. And the headmaster was right - Qrow was going to make sure he was a man of his word.

The air grew thick with contemplative silence, Qrow and Ozpin leaning back in each other’s chairs, as though seeing one another in a new light by simply exchanging seats.

Still, Qrow itched to move.

He bounced from the headmaster’s chair, rounded the desk, and extended his hand to the professor. "It'd be a shame if you didn't get to see all those fancy moves you taught me. Join me for a dance?" A gentle bow concluded his rather sudden formalities proving that the student had, in fact, been taking many notes despite his attitude.

"And here I thought you hated my dance lessons," Ozpin remarked with mild sarcasm. Nevertheless, he took the student's offered hand and rose from his seat. 

As if on cue, the student stumbled when guiding Ozpin to the center of the room. A side glare blamed the professor for the jinx. He cleared his throat and straightened, assuming the appropriate posture. "I don't hate them. Most professors think I’m getting personally reprimanded by the headmaster, so it gets me out of detention almost every day."

"Would you like some music, or has your intoxication supplied a tune?" Ozpin said, politely pretending not to notice the student's stumble or glare.

"Music would be nice. Your pi-h-ick." A small hiccup escaped Qrow on the last word. He shook it off, clearing his throat in effort to impress.

"Very well." A brief tapping of buttons on one of the many hidden keypads of the desk, and a soft piano began a waltz's pacing.

 _”One_ two three, _one_ two three..." Ozpin's counting faded into a quiet hum of the melody itself as he crossed to the center of the room and once more took Qrow's offered hand, the student taking the cue to lead. For a few minutes, they moved as one in comfortable silence.

“You've done quite well in recalling your steps. It's a shame neither of us are inclined to show them off in public. There is always next year, however."

"We will see," Qrow laughed. "We both hate people, and I have a habit of getting suspended."

“Hmm,” Ozpin said politely, as he dipped back against Qrow’s arm.

"Will you dance with me either way?" His unusually passive tone concealed his hope - the truth of the matter Qrow highly doubted anyone else would accept his hand after what he had done. Their treatment of him since the incident had all but proven this. Wild rumors had since grown and he had recently overheard that he grew up eating people, living among the Grimm outside the kingdom, and trying to mate with them. 

"Qrow, if you were to ask me to dance, it would be my pleasure to accept.”

But fuck 'em all. He had Ozpin.

“I’m very glad you did not go to the dance,” Ozpin said quietly, and Qrow quietly agreed.


	13. Epilogue: Faculty Evaluations

**Faculty Evaluation Questionnaire – Peter Port**

What about the professor and his/her teaching is most and least helpful for your learning? Briefly explain.  
 _He explains things with violence and combat skills. I can get behind that._

When do you find the professor making him/herself least clearly understood?  
_When he trails off about what he did over the weekend, his stories don't always make sense. You ever notice how he's always in "grave danger" before he saves the day?_

When do you feel most intellectually stimulated by this course?  
_When there is a lot of gore, adventure, and death in his stories. And then he tells us how to do it. Then we get to kill Grimm._

When are you clearest about what material ought to be in your notes?  
_When we get to do the practical application._

When are you confused about what material ought to be in your notes?  
When he says, "This will be on the exam... Oh! That reminds me of this time when I fought..." So will the fight be on the exam? How many of these damn stories do we have to know?

When do you feel most convinced that the course is worth your effort?  
_When his eyes get really big when I fight a Grimm in class, then he tells me I did good. I don't need to be told, but it is good he isn't blind. Kinda funny how he always remembers a story of him killing a Grimm the same way I did the week before._

When do you feel most certain that the instructor cares whether you succeed in the course?  
_When he says I am truly and inspiration or something. Good at killing. Exterminating. Whatever._

When do you most want to discuss the material in this course with your peers? With the professor?  
_Peers - never.  
Professor - I like to ask questions I know the answer to so I have to demonstrate a technique "to learn." Keeps me awake when I drift off in a ramble._

When do you find yourself listening most intently to lecture material in this course?  
_Blood. Guts. Gore._

Which assignments/class activities are least relevant to course objectives and student needs?  
_The written stuff. I already know what all the Grimm look like. Just show me how to kill them. So far I know how to do that already too. But it's still fun to show everyone else how. Even if they say shit after._

What challenges are you facing in this class in terms of your learning?  
_Sometimes I lose patience in written exams. So boring._

What suggestions do you have to improve the course?  
_More practice fighting._

What can the professor do better to facilitate your learning?  
_Overall, Port isn't half bad. Maybe a little less story time._

**Faculty Evaluation Questionnaire – Professor Ozpin**

What about the professor and his/her teaching is most and least helpful for your learning? Briefly explain.  
_He's kinda pushy. He likes to sneak up on you and corner you, then ask stupid questions before making you think you might be going a little crazy. Eventually something sort of clicks._

When do you find the professor making him/herself least clearly understood?  
_I tend to tune him out when he is speaking to the masses._

When do you feel most intellectually stimulated by this course?  
_If you count going crazy trying to figure out what he means from those stupid super secret hidden meaning questions in the first question, then that would be when._

When are you clearest about what material ought to be in your notes?  
_I am supposed to take notes?_

When are you confused about what material ought to be in your notes?  
_I don't think I need to take notes._

When do you feel most convinced that the course is worth your effort?  
_The solo meetings are helpful. Maybe a little. I can dance now._

When do you feel most certain that the instructor cares whether you succeed in the course?  
_Most of the time. He wouldn't bother talking to me otherwise. Other teachers yell. That is when you know they don't care. And then I don't care. But Professor Ozpin is different._

When do you most want to discuss the material in this course with your peers?  
_Don't make me talk to my peers. I can't talk to them like I can Ozpin..._

With the professor?  
_When he makes me?_

When do you find yourself listening most intently to lecture material in this course?  
_When he tricks me. Which is all the time and kind of a dick move._

Which assignments/class activities are least relevant to course objectives and student needs?  
_All the talking. Just show me how to do my job and I will._

What challenges are you facing in this class in terms of your learning?  
_The old man is cryptic as hell. Then he gives that stupid smile like he means 50 things he isn't even saying. Spit it out already._

What suggestions do you have to improve the course?  
_Stop with the cryptic smiles. They are annoying._

What can the professor do better to facilitate your learning?  
_How the hell should I know? He doesn't follow the school rules so I guess that isn't bad. Makes things interesting at least. And maybe his little after-school special during the dance wasn't awful. I guess...whatever he's doing is working pretty well. I don't hate the idea of coming back next year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Year 1 for Team STRQ! Thank you so much for following Qrow and us on our first fan fiction. We'll be taking a week's break as we begin work on Year 2. We look forward to Qrow and Ozpin's relationship grow as Qrow grows to understand more of them both. Cheers!
> 
> ~Clocks

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to our first story on AO3, and thank you for sticking through the first chapter! This has been a labor of love for over a year now, and we hope you enjoy our headcanons on Qrow's time at Beacon, and the growth of his relationship with Ozpin. We plan on navigating through all four years of Qrow at Beacon, plus his eventual romantic relationship with Ozpin as an adult. Tags will update as needed. Thank you again for checking out our work.  
> ~ Clocks
> 
> Stay tuned. It'll be a long ride. ^_~  
> ~ Cocks


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